Ghost Knight King's Dungeon Project

Chapter 80 [Prang teaches you the secrets to success]

The hissing sound of the drill bit spinning echoed through the sky.

The earth-devouring demon worm scurried through the rust-red iron ore, digging away with its head down. Its spiraling steel teeth collided with the rust-red rocks, sparks flying, and it quickly drilled out a pit.

The two stood side by side, watching the pit in front of them grow deeper and deeper. Under the gloom of the skeleton, the cave dwellers, resembling bean sprouts, swayed and sifted through the iron ore, loading it onto a bronze cart.

Seven or eight undead wearing bell-shaped helmets carried pickaxes of dark copper ore, waiting for the cart to be full so they could be taken back to the Takagrass Plains.

The root-rot clumps rummaged through the bushes, picking out all sorts of plants and animals to bring back to the underground city and enrich its ecosystem.

“Sometimes I think, maybe you shouldn’t have to bear so much.” Samael turned his head slightly and looked at the gray eyes beside him.

“That’s what I should be saying to you,” Talia smiled.

“No, no, what I mean is, there’s a database inside my body, and from the entry on [Basic Psionics], I found a technology called [Psionic Extractor] that can produce solid crystals of psionic energy in a virtually lossless way,” Samael explained. “I’ve already started arranging its manufacture, and it will be completed soon after I obtain Bloodsteel.”

"It can increase the utilization rate of psionic materials by three or four times. By piling those psionic crystals in the palace, you might be able to occasionally stay away from that harmful palace—after all, it's draining your psionic energy..."

The scene of the Cave Queen being sealed in her nest chamber flashed briefly in front of the UI, like a sign, a phantom that would appear in a movie zoom-in.

[Arklay... Loop Process]

[A tool-like species possessing intelligence...]

[Tools... Species...]

Samael was somewhat agitated.

"I'm somewhat surprised that, even knowing that the dungeon will continuously consume its own spiritual energy, so many demons are still vying for it, eager to become its ruler." He looked up at the sky, recalling the former boss that Archie had mentioned.

Archie's former boss was also a new monarch. He could have escaped when the adventurers broke in, but he chose to perish with his dungeon, giving Archie and the others a chance to escape, while he himself died.

Is this the fierce and unyielding culture of the demon race, or an instinct predetermined by the gods?

“Death is not frightening for demons.” Talia gazed at the sky in a daze. “Our lives are long, so long that it is sad, tedious, and exhausting. Our lives are also short; in the face of the eternal sky and stars, hundreds of years are just a blink of an eye.”

"For demons, the only thing that is truly terrifying is that your life and your death are both worthless—therefore, we yearn for legends, for grand undertakings, and for crafting the journey of life into a unique work of art."

“But for me, what’s more important is that you’re already tired enough.” She reached out her hand.

"What?" Samael was stunned, staring blankly at her outstretched hand.

“Come dance,” Talia said matter-of-factly.

“…Why…do we have to dance?” Samael asked, bewildered.

Even for Samael, such an invitation seemed rather abrupt.

"Does dancing need a reason?" Talia laughed. "You invited me out, and I'm glad. Isn't that a good enough reason?"

Samael hesitated, looking at Talia in front of him, and slowly grasped her hand with his cold gauntlet.

She wore a breastplate and shoulder armor, and under her skirt armor, she changed into a neat white skirt. Her boots left clear footprints on the half-melted snow.

“Come on! Follow me, it’s just walking slowly in three beats. One, two, three. One, two, three…” She held Samael’s hand in a serious manner.

The two awkwardly strolled back and forth among the rusty copper trees, swaying their bodies. Unfortunately, the music accompanying them was not the magnificent dance music played by court musicians, but the clanging and banging of the undead digging iron ore, and the buzzing of earth-devouring worms drilling underground.

"One, two, three, one step forward!"

Samael moved clumsily, and with a clatter, the two of them stumbled backward at the same time. Samael almost tripped over himself because he had misstepped.

"No, no, it's in front of you, not in front of me!" Talia laughed and grabbed his hand, closing the distance between them again.

[Bio-like posture data has been used: Gait Focus]

[This technique involves forcibly concentrating attention for a short period, enhancing balance, coordination, speed, and dodging abilities to achieve rapid movement and breakthroughs. It is commonly used in complex dance moves, high-risk acrobatics, parkour traversing complex terrain, and one-on-one duels.]

Samael nervously fiddled with the UI for a while, and finally his movements became smooth.

Today, the sky above Haixin was partly cloudy and partly sunny, with sunlight peeking through gaps in the clouds and shining on his helmet. His combat boots tapped gently to the rhythm of his pickaxe striking iron ore.

The surrounding rotting corpses wearing helmets swayed slightly, their tendrils and fleshy claws twitching.

Two tiny figures on the ground chased the slivers of light peeking through the clouds, dancing clumsily in the land of the dead at the center of the world.

"You activated your combat skills just to dance?" Talia asked with a half-smile.

"Is it that obvious?" Samael chuckled awkwardly.

“Your movements are much smoother,” Talia said. “You’ve never danced before?”

"Do morning exercises and gymnastics in high school count?" Samael shrugged. "Well, you probably don't."

“When I was little, my mother taught me to dance.” Talia stared at Samael in a daze. “I learned very quickly because demons have a natural control over their bodies and a talent for perceiving musical rhythms. But at the time I found it annoying because it was troublesome.”

"But my mother said that when I grow up, I should know how to participate in social activities in a dignified way. After all, children cannot escape growing up, just as living people cannot escape death."

"Later, I really grew up, and my parents really passed away."

As she twirled in her dance, she stared at Samael for a moment, lost in thought.

"Sometimes, I hate my mother. She always describes the world as terrible, leaving no room for even the slightest bit of happiness."

Samael didn't know what to say for a moment, and finally, he resorted to his only form of comfort:

"Have you eaten today?" he asked dryly.

Talia burst out laughing.

“You’re always like this,” she said. “But I’ve never seen better words than this—when people are tired and stressed, they don’t want someone to explain why all this is happening; they just want someone to be there for them with their mundane, boring daily life.”

"I think you've been a bit tired lately. I invited you to dance because I wanted to find some excuse to spend more time with you—it must be quite boring to be with those mute undead, right?"

“It’s pretty boring, spending every day with a bunch of rotting corpses, just staring blankly in a dark tomb—I can hardly imagine how my other kind of people can endure this kind of life,” Samael said. “I suspect that such a life would change their state, making them more and more like real undead.”

"That's why I'm so eager to drag them all back into the world of the living as soon as possible—for a ghost knight, the line between death and life is blurred. Perhaps being with the living and experiencing life can make them more like living people, rather than undead."

"Our common enemy is the world that manipulates all living beings, not each other. If only we could have won them over sooner..."

The clanging and clattering of the digging stopped for a moment. The Corpse Knights filled a basket with hematite ore and pushed the creaking and groaning cart of Nether Copper toward the smelting furnace on the High Grass Plain.

“I hope you succeed,” Talia said.

Samael nodded.

The moment the bushes behind him rustled, he suddenly stretched out his arm and shielded Talia between the bronze walls formed by his breastplate and shoulder armor.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

Three bronze harpoon spearheads were embedded in his lower back, piercing through Samael's armor, the barbs firmly wedged into his body! [Machine Status: 92% operational, minor damage]

A pop-up window is flashing in the UI.

A loud laugh rang out from behind.

“So that’s it. This is your weakness, Samael.” His sarcastic voice came from under his helmet. “You care about those living people—so much so that you’ll willingly walk right into the harpoon gun.”

"I was wondering what was stuffed in that tunnel you guarded so tightly. Turns out it's a group of living human slaves."

The tanners peeked out from the bushes on the distant hillside, the bronze winches on the sides of their harpoon guns whirring as they writhed, twisting the coarse leather ropes made of rotten black leather and tanned tendons.

With a buzzing sound, the rope of putrid, black flesh and skin was tightened, and a powerful force dragged Samael's body toward the ambush site of the tannery hunters in the bushes.

"It's a real shame for you, Samael. As an immortal necromancer lord, you're just hanging out with boring living people."

“We are souls from another world who have transcended death. These living people are so inferior to us. They are just toys, targets, and materials for undead warriors. They are just NPCs in a game. It doesn’t matter if we kill them.” Prange’s laughter came from under the helmet.

"It's ridiculous that you value them so much."

The tanner hunters yanked their winches with all their might, but failed to budge them on the first try. The undead of Prange were taken aback and looked up at Samael.

“Your kind… are quite ruthless…” Talia held Samael tightly in her arms, preventing him from being captured by Prange.

Her arm extended from between his breastplate and arm guards, her fingers pointing towards the tanner in the distance, the fingertips slightly upturned.

Wow!

With a loud bang, the soil cracked open, and the fangs of the earth-devouring demon worms pierced out from the ground. The shaking earth caused the corpse hunters to lose their balance and fall to the ground.

In the chaos, two tanners who controlled the leather rope noose dragged the corpses to the ground, as if they were swallowed by the earth.

A series of crisp cracking sounds followed. Half a second later, the shattered remnants of the undead were thrown onto the ground.

Samael drew his bronze knight's sword and tried to cut the third leather noose with his backhand. However, the piercing in his armor was in a tricky spot, making it difficult to reach the rope.

Talia snatched the Dark Bronze Knight's Sword and, amidst the chilling stillness of a corpse, swung it with difficulty, severing the third noose.

The Corpse Knights didn't have time to drop their pickaxes used for mining iron ore; they swung their sharp pickaxes and smashed them down on the Corpse Hunters.

With a clang, the black copper pickaxe pierced the helmet on the tanner's head, splattering rotten sap everywhere.

The remaining tanners chuckled and retreated towards the swamp.

After two days of rest, the temperature had risen, and the swamp waters had thawed. The hunters leaned back and dove back into the water.

“You can escape this time, Samael.” Prange’s voice still echoed in the air, “but I already know your weakness—next time, let’s see if you will choose a few insignificant living people, or the position of the undead lord of this world.”

The shadows of the tanner hunters vanished into the swamp's sewage, as if they had never existed.

Silence reigned under the dim sky, broken only by Talia's soft breathing as she gripped Samael's arm.

"Are all your kind... this ferocious?" she gasped, her hands still gripping Samael's arm armor tightly.

Her hands, gripping the Samael arm guards and carrying the Nether Bronze Knight's Sword, were trembling slightly—living people cannot handle Nether Bronze or hold Nether Bronze weapons for long periods of time, and even her joints were beginning to turn white from the cold.

“That’s true for most,” Samael replied. “However, even among all the Ghost Knights, Planger is considered one of the worst.”

Talia slowly lowered the Dark Bronze Knight Sword, intending to pull out the harpoon head remaining on Samael's body.

“Wait a minute.” Samael reached out and grabbed her wrist.

He removed one of his arm armors, reached his arm into the hollow of his breastplate, and pulled out a parasitic undead—then a second, and a third.

These are artificial necromancers stuffed inside hollow harpoon guns, an old trick of Prange's.

He threw the parasitic undead to the ground, lifted his bronze boots, and slowly crushed them with the soles of his boots while deep in thought.

The crushed necromancy splattered, leaving putrid marks on the ground, which bore traces of winter snow.

"What's wrong?" Talia asked. "The most important thing right now is to finish mining and get back to a safe area."

“No,” Samael answered quietly, still lost in thought.

For a moment, the air was eerily quiet.

Samael's broad, armored body was always slightly hunched over to lower his height, making his two-meter-tall frame appear almost the same height as other living people. This made it easier to talk to him and also made him appear calm, gentle, and reassuring.

But now, he gradually straightened his tall, bronze body, and with a click, he unfolded his broad shoulder armor.

He showed no emotion, maintaining a quiet, contemplative posture. But in the deathly silence, shadows slowly crept beneath the hollow armor, and under the gloomy sky, a hazy, dark light and shadow covered the sharply defined helmet.

“Samael?” Talia asked.

“I suddenly noticed something…” he whispered, “The undead guarding the Rahador arm guards seems to be acting strangely… that thing is…”

He continued to ponder, the shadows spreading.

“Ansba?” he finally said. “Are your soldiers ready?”

A dozen seconds later, somewhere to the north, the bell-shaped helmet's rotten root ball responded:
"It will be tomorrow night, around 11:30," Ansba said. "Have we conquered the Deccan?"

“No, if you have extra troops, I hope you can help guard my territory first—just the part of the tall grass plains will suffice,” Samael replied. “I need to send troops to the southern swamp region… to take care of some things.”

“It will be done very soon,” he added. “Very quickly.”

“Yes,” Ansba replied. “I will send troops to be stationed along the border in the Takagrass area tomorrow night.”

"Also, check if the original Lahador you were keeping is still there," Samael said.

“It’s in the cellar. I’ll check it right away.”

The call ended. Their communication was always like this—clean and efficient.

"Are you alright?" Talia asked.

“Logically, after obtaining Bloodsteel and Holy Iron, I should first go to Sokofa to negotiate and find what Lysander mentioned,” Samael replied. “But—I can’t leave any dangerous elements behind.”

“I cannot let them drag me into the realm of the dead before I can drag them back into the world of the living.”

“I’m asking, are you alright?” Talia repeated.

"Hmm?" Samael turned his head absentmindedly.

"Ah, I'm fine," he replied casually. "Let's hurry back to the dungeon; I have a ton of work to do."

(End of this chapter)