Ghost Knight King's Dungeon Project

Chapter 82 [The Genius on the Left, the Madman on the Right]

The Great Swamp, having just experienced a snowfall, was much quieter; the croaking of frogs and the chirping of birds had ceased. Although the mutated plants and animals were far more resilient than ordinary ones, the low temperatures were still unpleasant for them. Most of the magical beasts had hidden themselves away or entered a brief state of hibernation.

Thud. The fleshy body made of dead flesh swayed, crushing through the wet peat layer and withered vegetation.

A group of serpentine ghouls wearing Collins-style helmets slithered across the swamp, hissing as they swam in the murky water, led by a massive ghoul with barbed black bronze on its left arm.

In the psionic environment, years of fermentation produced a humus-rich liquid that mingled with the sewage, thick, abundant, and emitting a pungent stench. The Great Swamp was like the bloated liver of the Skeleton Heart Plains, absorbing sewage and toxins. Here, carrion-eating monsters could do nothing but kneel and kiss this fertile land, sucking the sweet, rotten sludge from their feet.

For the living, it is a living hell. But for the dead, it is a safe and comfortable rotting bed.

Rahador's serpentine carrion demons burrowed into the filthy, foul waters, attempting to sneak into the depths of the swamp.

The serpentine corpse demon's body was not covered in heavy armor, and with the buoyancy provided by the [dead flesh], it could basically maintain a stable suspended state in the water.

If he could slip the arm armor into Prange's tomb before Samael conquered the Great Swamp, he could conceal the fact that he had been secretly plotting something and pretend to be a loyal and perfect victim.

The underwater view was blurry, with very low visibility in the brownish sewage. Some huge, pale, strange fish swam slowly in the water, and some kind of alligator snapping turtle-like creature lurked in the silt. Many strange, unidentified objects, such as tree trunks, dead leaves, duckweed, or remains that had been soaking for many years, were scattered and suspended in the water.

Rahadur's Corpse Demon raised the claw-shaped bronze gauntlet on its left arm, pushed aside the rotting wood in front of it, and moved slowly in the underwater shadows, as if floating among the low-gravity ruins of space, dodging the weightless relics.

Its gauntlet touched something that looked like a crocodile scale corpse, or something like wood.

The piece of "wood" floated stiffly, and with the push, it drifted a short distance away. Slowly, a rotten, blackened corpse hand emerged from beneath the crocodile skin, tightly gripping the tip of the bronze harpoon gun.

It spun aimlessly like a swirling duckweed, drifting with the currents in the sewage, as the harpoon gun's tip slowly aimed at the serpentine corpse demon with the Rahador arm armor.

Wow!

Before its harpoon gun could fire, a loud bang echoed in the sky above the water, and a bronze spear descended from the heavens, piercing the water's surface and piercing through the disguised cadaver hunter amidst the raging spray, pinning it firmly between the mud and the water.

“Ah, Prange.” A membranous ghoul wearing a Collins-style helmet and carrying another spear hovered in the sky and landed on a nearby rusty bronze tree. “I’m not stupid. These undead that blend into their environment are clever, but they are still quite conspicuous once they know in advance that you made them from tanned corpses and crocodile skin.”

The Necromantic combat skill [Stealth] is an ability almost exclusively for necromancers. It allows the body to enter a state similar to a zombie state, and when combined with some external camouflage, it can blend into the environment with astonishing efficiency.

With a splash, the serpentine corpse demon with the Rahado bronze left arm slowly rose from the sewage, picking at the duckweed leaves stuck to its arm and shoulder armor.

Before it, seven or eight tannery hunters wearing helmets rose from the sewage, harpoon guns held at their waists, the spearheads aimed at the serpentine carrion demon.

The slender, bronze-clad figure extended a long, sharp, claw-shaped gauntlet from its left arm and snapped its fingers with a click.

Behind it, ten serpentine corpse demons appeared, each carrying a small curved scythe of dark bronze. A membranous corpse demon sat perched on a tree above its head, and two membranous undead hovered around it—this was all the forces that Rahador had left.

The two sides remained in a silent standoff until Prange's chuckle rang out from beneath his helmet:

"You—when you escaped from prison, you only managed to get one arm out?"

“Uh…yes.” Rahado hesitated for a moment before answering listlessly.

"These are the only troops I have left." The serpentine corpse demon spread its hands, its bronze gauntlets pointing to the three membrane-winged undead above its head and the ten serpentine corpse demons behind it.

"So, what made you, a guy with only one arm who can still run around, gather all your forces and come to my territory?" Prange's mocking laughter rang out from under the bronze helmets of the Corpse Hunters.

"Regarding the cooperation you mentioned earlier." The chainmail rustled, and beneath the Collins-style helmet, the rotting corpse's face grinned with an indescribable, festering smile. The skin, made of piled-up dead flesh, cracked open, as if the corners of its mouth had parted in a smile. "I think I could reconsider."

"Oh? Is that so?" the tanner hunters chuckled.

“There’s no way around it. After all, there aren’t many inventors as talented and creative as you.” Rahado carefully chose his words. “No matter how much Sokofa tinkers with machines, he’s just a stubborn, socially awkward nerd. He can’t compare to an unconventional genius like you.”

"Oh, that's more palatable—now you know my abilities surpass those of Suokofa?" The sludge hunters shifted contentedly, slightly lowering the height of their harpoon guns.

“What’s more, Samael has far too many tricks up his sleeve. If nothing unexpected happens, he might really become the leader of Skeleton Heart, the leader of all Ghost Knights,” Rahado continued.

The serpentine corpse demon slithered lazily, continuing its speech as it approached the corpse hunters.

The tanner hunter tried to raise his harpoon gun to stop Rahador's carrion demon from getting any closer.

"Hey, hey, let me finish. Prange, you're the smartest and most suitable leader I've ever met. Surely you don't even have the patience to listen to me?" The Corpse Demon raised his left arm guard and long, sharp claw-shaped gauntlet, and kindly pressed down the harpoon gun. His other corpse claw rested on the Corpse Hunter's shoulder.

"Look, I don't even have any territory anymore, and I only have a few undead left. I can only move one arm freely. Even in this state, are you still worried that I pose a threat to you? Please, am I that strong?"

“Hmm…” the tanner hunter hesitated.

“Logically speaking, it doesn’t matter who among the six of us Exterminators becomes the leader. But Samael is the only exception—because that guy is too much of a pushover. If he becomes the leader, he will definitely restrain our behavior and stop us from having fun with these alien natives—then, all those ingenious gadgets you created will have nowhere to play.”

"If we want to stop Samael from unifying the undead forces, we have no choice but to unite against him."

The serpentine corpse demon's right arm affectionately wrapped around the tanner's shoulder, while its bronze left arm and claw-shaped gauntlets were being gestured towards the hunter.

"Hmm..." the tanner hunter murmured.

"Moreover, Samael has colluded with that dull, big guy Ansba to imprison other parts of my body. If I want those other parts to escape as well, I really need to work with a... talented, creative, and powerful Ghost Knight."

“Hmm…” The Corpse Hunter swayed slightly with pleasure, the swaying increasing with each word Rahado uttered, until finally, the helmeted head nodded.

"Alright, you've got a good eye." The necromancer hunters put away their harpoon guns. "Perfect timing. That stinking bastard Xinzro traded some supplies with me and then ignored me completely. I need new allies—who can refuse another hundred command helmets?"

"Ah, that's wonderful, my genius ally Prange!" Rahador's serpentine corpse demon grinned, revealing a bizarre smile beneath his chainmail.

"However, the lake where I was staying has been occupied. Samael is up to no good over there, and there are very few undead left. I even had to rely on rats, dead fish, and scraps of flesh from the previous battlefield to piece together these undead!"

"I need a place to shelter me and provide some sanctuary for the dead. If you don't mind, maybe the two of us brothers can squeeze into your tomb?"

“Hmm…” Plange pondered, “That could be acceptable…”

Rahadu's serpentine corpse demon tail twitched excitedly twice, creating ripples on the surface of the swamp's sewage.

“However!” Prange’s Corpse Hunter suddenly became serious, pointing at the serpentine corpse demon.

The serpentine corpse demon paused.

“You have one arm you can use, which means you can do things like casting ghost copper and transforming degraded humus! You’ll have to assist me. There’s a lot of work in my workshop; we need to produce a lot of tools, and we need to work non-stop.”

"No problem, it's a piece of cake." Rahado breathed a sigh of relief and chuckled to himself.

“Furthermore,” Prange added, “you were beaten by the combined forces of Samael and Ansba, and your helmet is with Samael, so you must have a lot of intelligence related to Samael—you have to give me some valuable intelligence, or I won’t do it.”

“Uh…” Rahado hesitated.

Although leaking information to Purange might be seen as betraying Samael, the current situation is special, and the immediate priority is to gain Purange's trust and infiltrate his tomb. What happens after that can be dealt with later.

“Samael has a golden sword that can cut through the bronze of the underworld.”

“Oh…this information is very important…” the tanner hunter chuckled.

“Furthermore… Samael is preparing to attack you tomorrow,” Rahador added appropriately, putting pressure on Prange.

“Hmm…” Prange pondered, “Alright, let’s not delay, come with me quickly.” Led by the necromancer hunters, the serpentine corpse demons and the four-headed membranous necromancers crossed the swamp and bypassed a large area of ​​seemingly safe, flat ground.

“Don’t wander around on that ground over there—if you get your arm crushed, it might affect your ability to help me with the work,” Prange said slowly and deliberately.

"There's a falling log trap hidden in the branches over there. Don't go near that bush, and don't touch that thin, vine-like rope."

"There are bronze animal traps floating in the shallow water over there, and they're chained together. Don't go near them."

Along the way, Prange repeatedly called out to and directed Rahado to avoid the traps he had set.

Rahador's serpentine corpse demons followed closely behind, carefully avoiding the deadly traps lurking in the swamp.

The four-headed, membranous undead hovered overhead, observing the scene in the swamp below with great interest.

Following the tanner hunters through the treacherous swamp, in the center of the swamp, there is a flat island that is half dry and half wet. It is like a small village of a primitive tribe, with messy and rough wooden structures built haphazardly with rusted copper tree logs.

Rusty copper logs formed a rickety walkway and supports, which resembled gallows, with thick ropes from winches suspending large numbers of tanned corpses.

Hordes of muddy undead wriggled busily among them, creaking and groaning as they turned the winch shafts, lowering or retrieving the ropes. As the ropes changed length, the corpses were lowered and submerged in the swamp's sewage, then pulled out to dry. After repeated acid washing and air drying, they were tanned into a state similar to tanned corpses.

Several mud-monster undead carried the tanned corpses on their backs and transported them to a cellar with a layer of ghost copper plating, where they were preserved at a low temperature.

Between the supports and the walkway, there was a chaotic little workshop half-buried underground. Dozens of putrid, swollen, fleshy undead were suspended in it by chains of dark copper. Their grotesque limbs kicked stiffly. They had no heads or eyes, only fleshy bodies and hard, rough limbs, filled with tumor-like cysts filled with unstable fluid.

The bodies of these self-destructing undead were pierced with a bunch of hollow, black copper spiked tubes, from which acidic liquid flowed continuously into large barrels filled with dried fungal blocks.

Prange's main body was busy at work, huffing and puffing as he moved large barrels of nectar filled with acid.

He wore a rough, menacing crocodile skin apron, a stick tied to his helmet with tanned leather, a bow tied like a shoelace, and a string of coarse paper made of reed fibers hanging from it. His appearance was somewhere between an old farmer carrying milk barrels and a virtuous maid.

His armor was also lightweight, with small, fish-scale-like plates of bronze connecting to each other on a frame made of necromancer, resembling crocodile skin, with rough, spiky protrusions and sharp edges, forming a light yet powerful structure.

Rahadur's carrion demon peered curiously into the large vat containing a massive block of fungus used to absorb the acid. The fungal block was about the size of a fist, and it was just fragments.

"Where did you find such a large fungus?" he asked Purange curiously.

“I found a semi-worm-like cave-dwelling creature underground in this area. Deep in their tunnels, there are several fungi as big as trees—their structure is very interesting. The sponge-like fleshy texture is loose and porous, which can serve as a structural buffer for the necrotic acid, enhancing its stability,” Prange explained proudly.

"These giant fungal trees are incredibly rare! There are only three or four in the burrows of those worm-like creatures! Even if you were told the recipe for an acid bomb, you still wouldn't be able to get your hands on this fungal material and replicate it—"

"I just don't know how that Samael guy got his hands on this precious giant fungal wood, and how he managed to create a replica so quickly, and even on a small scale..."

Tanners came and went, carrying huge bronze baskets filled with bulbs, large pieces of fungus, and dried reeds. They spread these materials out everywhere to soak, smoke, and dry, creating a scene reminiscent of a swamp wizard's secret base, leaving almost no room to stand.

"Alright, Rahado's arm, get moving!" Prange turned around, barking triumphantly. "I need more Nether Bronze harpoon heads, and degraded humus—put the harpoon heads in that big vat over there for poisoning, and pour the degraded humus into the Nether Bronze pipes next to it. I've stuffed a fermentation chamber in the cellar, filled it with several undead with [enzyme pretreatment] to stir the humus and cultivate the toxins and pathogens that ferment out."

The arm armor had already been delivered into the swamp, so what happened next was really irrelevant. Rahador's rotting demon casually agreed, then slacked off at the workbench, chatting idly to pass the time.

"Speaking of which, what's the use of toxins and pathogens?" he asked Planger lazily. "Necromancers don't fall for that, and neither do ghost knights. Even highly corrosive self-destructing acid didn't work on them."

"Didn't I already say? We need to get rid of those living people under Samael's command!" Prange stood up straight with a thud, hands on his hips, his crocodile-skin apron, the tanned dead skin bow on his head, and the coarse straw paper fluttering in the wind.

"Plagues and toxins are useless against the undead, but they are terrifying weapons of immense power against the living!"

“Samael can shield his living toy people from harpoon guns, but he can’t protect them from poison, miasma, and disease! In fact, if he ignores these filths and doesn’t properly cleanse his body before coming into contact with living people, he might unknowingly become a carrier of disease and personally infect them! Just like Typhoid Mary!”

"Even if those living people are physically strong and can't die, fever and infection are inevitable. At the very least, it can distract Samael and keep that guy busy for a long time!"

Are you sick? You think Samael is too lenient now? Lahado cursed Prange for being an idiot, casually agreed a few times, raised the black copper claw-shaped gauntlet on his left arm, pressed it against the rusted copper tree to extract black copper, and haphazardly cast a harpoon spearhead for Prange.

The ten serpentine corpse demons who came with him didn't know what to do, so they casually arranged for them to cower in a corner.

His four membranous undead, scattered at different heights, landed on the branches of a nearby rusty bronze giant tree—wait, four?

When did it become four? Rahado was stunned. Didn't he only have three remaining membranous necromancers that he could call upon?
He clearly remembered that when he entered the swamp, he only brought three membrane-winged undead with him, and followed Prange into the core area.

He looked up and carefully examined the four winged undead between the branches, and suddenly felt a chill in his heart.

The four membranous undead folded their wings and quietly crouched on the branches.

Three Collins helmets and one bell helmet.

Rahado nearly screamed!
When did this thing sneak in?!

“Uh…oh…uh…” Rahado’s corpse demon hesitated for a moment, then, when Prange wasn’t looking, raised the bronze gauntlet on his left arm, pointed at Prange’s back, then at himself, and then waved his hands repeatedly.

I...and him...are not on the same side...

The winged undead with the bell-shaped helmet remained perched silently on the branch, motionless, the dark gap beneath the one-eyed bell-shaped helmet facing Rahador's arm armor.

"Uh... um... ah..." the serpentine corpse demon stammered awkwardly, then suddenly had a brilliant idea.

It raised the bronze harpoon head in its hand, gestured a couple of times, flipped its gauntlet, and the bronze printer buzzed and flashed, smoothing out the barbs of the harpoon head and blunting the sharp edge. It then showed the bell-helmeted necromancer the cheap, stick-like harpoon head before putting it into the pile of harpoons to the side.

I'm here to... sabotage Prang...

The bell-shaped helmet-winged necromancer remained motionless.

“Uh…oh…ah…um…oh…” Rahad was a little flustered. He pointed to Prange, who was carrying large barrels with his head down, and then pointed to himself. He shook his head and waved his hands at the bell-helmeted necromancer.

I...don't know him...

I...and him...are not on the same side...

The bell-shaped helmet-winged necromancer made no comment and flew away.

Only the serpentine corpse demon remained, wearing gauntlets of dark bronze, swaying on the empty, rusty bronze tree branches.

Oh no, oh ...! It's all over!

Rahado nearly collapsed. He had spent all this time trying to prove his innocence and show that he hadn't done anything wrong. Now, Samael's winged necromancer scouts had been following him the whole way, listening to his overtures to Prange, and would probably think he was cooperating with Prange.

The original mistake was simply "one arm guard defecting." If he had honestly admitted it at the time, he would have been detained for a few more days at most.

Now, once again, things have backfired, and the crime has suddenly and inexplicably become "the massacre of living people by the United Prags." Even someone as good-tempered as Samael would probably lose his temper!

"What's wrong? What are you staring at?" Pulange, wearing an apron, came over.

"No...it's nothing..." Rahado chuckled dryly.

"Then get to work." Pulange turned and left.

The serpentine corpse demon stared at Prange's departing figure, rubbing his sharp, slender, dark bronze claw-shaped gauntlets—now, this was probably the only way to make amends.

(End of this chapter)