Ghost Knight King's Dungeon Project

Chapter 84 [Holy One]

Between the rough workshops in the heart of the Great Swamp, tanners and ghoul mud lumps roamed freely.

After a long day of work, Master Pulang took off his crocodile skin apron, tossed it aside with a clatter, and sat down to rest on the base of the bronze pipe opening next to the workshop.

Although the Ghost Riders' bronze bodies never tire, their minds will still become weary and bored from doing the same things repeatedly for a long time.

"Hey, hurry up, Rahador," he said lazily, leaning back against the workbench and yelling at the serpentine corpse demon in front of him. "With your work efficiency, you think I'd take you in?"

That scoundrel is incredibly arrogant. He pretended to be some big shot, but he's gotten too cocky... Rahadu, who had been slacking off all afternoon fiddling with cheap harpoon tips, was getting annoyed.

But for the sake of his future plans, he replied in a nonchalant tone, "Yes, yes, I know—I'm working."

The serpentine corpse demon extended Rahador's left arm armor made of Nether Bronze, pressing the gauntlet against a pile of rusty copper logs to extract Nether Bronze while subtly peeking around.

Prange sat leaning against the pipe where the fiber paper was stored, not moving an inch. Clearly, he was quite interested in the explosives in these bronze hand cannons.

"Speaking of which, my brilliant ally Prange, are you really confident in defeating Samael?" Rahado probed, trying to extract information while changing the subject. "After all, that Samael guy always manages to come up with all sorts of strange and unusual things."

"I once wanted to build something similar to the catapult he made before. But the structure of that thing was more complicated than I imagined. The counterweight, the support arm, the throwing angle, the throwing distance... everything required a very sophisticated design - I don't even know how he built it."

“They are Samael’s living subordinates. They are natives of this world and will provide him with design experience for these large siege weapons, and may even have blueprints.” Prange extended his crocodile-like dark bronze claws, the back of his hands covered with dark bronze scale-like joints, and slowly clenched his fist.

"So, as long as we kill those living people, Samael will have no new sources of technology, and compared to me, he will lose his advantage in war technology."

"So, genius Prange, did you research all your techniques yourself?" Rahado probed.

"Uh... most of them are, I guess." Prange looked a little embarrassed, which was unusual for him.

“Most of them?” Rahado repeated.

Prange snorted.

"Do you remember the Nether Bronze Hand Cannon I showed you before?" he asked. "The explosive manufacturing process and formula for that hand cannon were given to me by Madman Xinziluo. At the time, he was talking nonsense as if he was out of his mind, and he would twitch from time to time. He took the initiative to come to me to seek a deal."

"In exchange, Xinzro sent some strange-looking copper necromancers from the barren depths of the volcano, which hauled away tons of humus from my swamp, along with the necromancers and swamp creatures, almost hollowing out the southern part of the Great Swamp."

“Only that technology was acquired through trade—all the other technologies were developed by myself,” Prange added arrogantly.

He has a strong sense of self-respect; he won't claim credit for results that aren't his own, nor will he boast about them.

“Oh…I see.” Rahado wasn’t particularly interested in the eccentric madman Sinziro from the southern volcano. As he pondered, he looked up at the sky, checking the local meridian time on his helmet’s UI.

The sky was already dark, and the night, like deep, black water, gradually engulfed the world, creating an indescribable feeling of suffocation.

The sunlight vanished, the two moons were obscured by haze, and the world was swallowed up by the universe. However, thanks to the ghost riders' unique night vision, they could barely make out the blurry outlines of things through the shadows of the stars.

“That’s why I should be the true leader of the Undead Heart.” Planger seemed very proud. “Only I have the ability to transform this world into a perfect playground for the undead.”

"There's no need to worry about Samael's attacks. Although I'm not very good at controlling hordes of undead to fight or other complicated things, I'm very good at creating traps, mechanisms, and props."

“I have set up countless traps in the Great Swamp and laid ambushes with a large number of necromancer hunters, all hidden in the intricate natural environment. It is absolutely impossible for clumsy undead soldiers like Samael, with their broad armored physiques, to do so—”

Boom!

A strange, loud noise rang out in the distance, accompanied by the splashing sound of water, the cracking sound of rusty copper trees breaking, and the crashing of some rusty copper trees at the edge of the swamp.

Birds fluttered their wings in the night sky, then scattered in panic, leaving blurry silhouettes in the dark sky.

The soft crackling of animal traps echoed in the distance.

Clang! The sound of metal clashing against metal, like thunder, rang out.

The instant the knocking sound rang out, a few flashes of blinding white light flickered through the forest for milliseconds, like lightning piercing the clouds. In that instant, the sky seemed like an overexposed photographic film, capturing the clouds and the startled birds in the moment the light appeared.

But in just a moment, the light vanished as if it had never existed.

Dead silence. For a moment, the dark swamp was utterly silent.

There were no sounds of undead fighting, nor of monsters.

“…” Prange raised his boat-shaped helmet and stared at the serpentine corpse demon with Rahador’s left arm attached to it.

Boom!

Another loud bang, exactly the same as the previous one, but this time it was closer to the tomb where the two were.

Prange stood up abruptly, straightening his body. The shadow beneath his boat-shaped helmet signaled to the tanner hunters lying in ambush in the forest, as he tried to scout out the situation.

"What's wrong?" Rahadu's serpentine corpse demon asked, feigning concern while secretly chuckling to himself.

“Gone…gone…” Prange whispered.

"what?"

“The tanned corpse hunters and mud-bomb undead that were stationed nearby… have all gone missing.” Plang hesitated. “What are those things…”

Before they spiraled out of control, the Nether Bronze Helmet implants transmitted some final, fragmented images: a massive, heavy shadow upon which stood a blurry humanoid silhouette, with long, narrow shields forged on the outside of its arm armor, and a knight's longsword in each hand, one gripping a somber Nether Bronze longsword, the other an ornate steel hilt, the blade of which was ablaze with white lightning.

The two swords, arranged in a cross shape, collided with each other, the bright light of lightning dazzling and eye-catching.

Then came the sound of the tanner hunter and the bronze helmet being crushed.

Boom!

Another loud bang, and the thing got even closer!
Clang! The sound of swords striking each other was like the tolling of a judgment bell, drawing ever closer with an unstoppable force!
Two beams of white light, like lightning, once again shone from the dark swamp.

"What is this..." Prange muttered, hurriedly turning around and running to the entrance of the cellar where the explosives for making hand cannons were stored. He rummaged through the treated fibers, the bronze scales on his body rustling with his movements.

He brought out a large stack of grayish-brown straw paper, quickly tore it into pieces, and semi-molten funerary copper welled up in his palm, gradually solidifying into the shape of a hand cannon barrel.

The tanners who were still stationed around the Pulange tomb workshop also gathered together, receiving hand cannons from Pulange while helping to tear apart pieces of grayish-brown fibrous paper.

"What are you standing there for? Come and help me tear these pieces of paper to shreds!" Pulange roared.

Before, they used me like a cow or a horse to screw in screws, and now they're using me like a paper shredder... Rahado felt the amount of Nether Bronze stored in his left arm and suppressed the urge to create a giant Nether Bronze scythe to cut off Prange's helmet. While tearing at the grayish-brown straw paper, he secretly stuffed a piece of straw paper under his chainmail and hid it when Prange wasn't paying attention.

This stuff will explode when it comes into contact with necrotic acid, and it burns very quickly... Rahado chuckled to himself, glancing at the large vat filled with acid beside him.

Boom! The loud noise grew closer and closer, and a massive, imposing shadow was almost within reach.

The sounds of mechanisms being triggered were incessant: wood slamming, rocks falling, animal traps, bronze spikes... a series of complex sounds of mechanisms being activated rang out one after another.
Prange paced anxiously in place. He was controlling the tannery hunters lurking in the swamp, trying to figure out what it was, but as soon as the light flashed, the tannery hunters lost contact, followed by a crisp cracking sound.

“What exactly is it…” Prang looked angrily at the approaching shadow.

He beckoned, leading a dozen or so tannery hunters equipped with bronze hand cannons, and crept stealthily across the dark swamp, approaching the ever-getting shadow.

In the darkness, he witnessed that shocking scene.

A colossal undead beast, its entire body covered in Nether Bronze, was formed by the fusion of the Corpse Demon's [dead flesh]. Tons of dead flesh piled up to create a massive body completely covered in Nether Bronze armor plates, like an armored monster. From beneath the armor plates extended giant fleshy arms, dragging its body forward through the swamp.

Traps were caught in its limbs, and chains dragged along the swampy mud. But for a monster of this size, traps and mechanisms were practically useless.

Its lower body resembled some kind of paralyzed, lame animal, while its upper body consisted of nine burly, rotting corpse demons wearing helmets of dark bronze, linked together to form a grotesque, conjoined legion. At this moment, the upper bodies of those nine corpse demons were all holding up heavy dark bronze shields, as if to shield something.

The legionary behemoth raised its upper body and crushed it heavily onto the rusty bronze tree, breaking it and quickly clearing a path.

Above the Legion's behemoth, Samael had shields welded onto his arms and held a bronze sword and a holy iron sword in his hands.

His armor was no longer the dark blue-bronze, but a rusty gray-white. The surface of the armor was covered with a layer of steel with copper spots and scattered scorch marks.

Before setting off, Samael used the high temperature of a large amount of enchanted charcoal to melt a large barrel of molten iron and poured it onto his own bronze body.

After the molten iron solidified, a thin layer of steel formed on the outside of the black copper, preventing it from being directly scorched by the holy light. As the molten iron dripped from the edge of the armor, it solidified, leaving behind stalactite-like stalagmites, resembling icicles hanging from the eaves of a northern winter.

On his steel-white helmet, a stream of solidified liquid gold flowed from the slit of his eye, tracing a tear across half his face. It was a small amount of gold left at the bottom of the crucible when the witch gold was smelted and burned, which hadn't been removed when the steel was cast, like the tears of a dead saint.

[Body condition: 82% normal operation, surface burn damage, foreign objects and impurities in the joints, causing stiffness]

Please remove impurities as soon as possible to avoid affecting the machine's operation.

Prange was stunned; he didn't even recognize Samael at first glance.

Samael's body, which should have been a dark bronze color, turned steel gray-white, covered with rough iron studs that had solidified from molten steel dripping down, like a Gothic spiked armor, or a hermit saint with molten gold splashed on his face, exuding a holy and awe-inspiring grandeur, even his footsteps seemed to carry a solemn hymn.

“Ah…” The steel-colored saint above the giant beast’s head let out a weary sound, which sounded like a low laugh or a sigh.

“Ah…uh…oh…” Prange was stunned for a moment. This scene was beyond his wildest imagination and beyond his ability to handle. The tannery hunters holding their hand cannons also stood there dumbfounded.

The helmet adorned with molten gold tear stains twitched slightly, and the bright white figure raised the two swords in his hands, the blades intersecting in a cross shape, and struck them together with great force!
clang!
Amidst the crisp clang of the metal blades colliding, a blinding white light burst forth from the point of impact!
Excruciating pain! An indescribable burning pain! In the instant the holy light shone, Prange felt as if his body, which was illuminated, was on fire!
Since becoming undead, an unprecedented pain instantly swept through his body. Although the holy light only flickered for a moment, the pain lingered, surging through his senses and leaving an indelible shadow, leaving him unable to recover for a long time!

【Psionic isolation detected.】This text popped up on Planger's helmet UI.

In the instant the holy light shone, the corpse hunters stood there dumbfounded, their arms hanging limply like broken puppets, swaying slightly.

Samael's legion of behemoths raised their shields in advance, using the heavy bronze shields in conjunction with the bronze armor on their bodies to block a round of holy light.

Taking advantage of the fleeting moment, the behemoth raised its front half and slammed it down on the Corpse Hunters. Its massive fleshy arm, along with its Nether Bronze Armor, crashed down, instantly crushing them into tattered pieces!

Prange screamed.

He finally came to his senses and understood what was happening before him. He frantically picked up the hand cannons scattered on the ground and shoved the lance, soaked in necrotic acid, into the breech of the cannons.

With a loud bang, the Nether Bronze projectile shattered a piece of armor on the legion's behemoth, creating a large, festering dent in its fleshy arm.

The behemoth swayed slightly, its limbs broken off from the bombardment by the Nether Bronze Hand Cannon.

Pulange turned around and ran away.

Hand cannon fire is still effective! The workshop has plenty of ammunition. If enough hand cannons fire at long range, we might be able to blast Samael's behemoth apart from outside the range of that strange white light interference.

Boom!

The moment he turned around, a deafening explosion rang out from the direction of his workshop.

Amidst the buzzing roar, mud, rusted copper and wood fragments, broken ghost copper equipment, various raw materials, roots, mud and the remains of the undead... the workshop was reduced to countless fragments, which were blasted into the sky in the scorching orange-red heat and fell like raindrops!

The grave in Purange exploded.

The materials, tools, equipment, and undead remaining in the workshop all turned into falling raindrops.

In the scorching, rotting rain, Prange turned around in alarm, only to be met with the iron-colored Samael so close at hand.

The bronze-colored Samael was terrifying enough, let alone the iron-colored one!

He screamed like a burly man who had just seen a cockroach, stumbled back a few steps, started the Nether Copper printer, and semi-molten Nether Copper gushed from his palm, quickly forming a heavy giant shield and a slender rapier.

"No no no no no..." Prange trembled and shrank behind the bronze shield, swinging his rapier wildly. Even the most extreme, despicable shield-stabbing pervert would feel admiration at the sight.

Samael spread his arms, slowly rotating his wrists as if spreading wings, twirling his left and right knight swords, his left hand wielding the Nether Bronze Sword in a [blade reversal stance], and his right hand in a [luring thrust stance].

Bang!

The holy iron longsword struck the dark bronze shield, but only produced a small cluster of white sparks, leaving a small dent.

"Retreat! Retreat, retreat, retreat!" Prange screamed, extending his rapier from the side and wildly stabbing with [Sampling Piercing], which was blocked by the Dark Bronze Knight Sword.

Samael tried to get around the shield, but Prange kept a close eye on him, swaying left and right and hiding behind the giant shield.

Prange's weapon setup was too underhanded; there was nothing that could be done about him for the time being. Samael was somewhat helpless.

The shamanic gold longsword at his waist, suspended by a dark bronze chain, jingled with his movements. Perhaps he should switch to the sword in his left hand, wielding a shamanic gold knight's sword and incorporating shield-breaking techniques…

Samael prepared a countermeasure, and just as he was about to switch swords, a huge bronze scythe suddenly appeared.

While Prange was focused on dodging White Iron Samael, the scythe blade hooked around Prange's waist and yanked him hard!
Under the immense force of the scythe, Prange's body was cut in half at the waist. The upper half, still clutching his shield and rapier, crashed to the ground with a clatter, while the lower half was dragged aside by two serpentine corpse demons behind him, who were holding his boots.

Prange struggled with his upper body, trying to escape, but was violently slashed by the huge scythe, which instantly severed both of his arms.

The serpentine corpse demon, wearing the left arm armor of Rahador, raised his small curved scythe, bent down and cut off Prange's boat-shaped helmet, then handed the helmet to White Iron Samael with both hands.

"I've always been on Samael's side from beginning to end!" The serpentine corpse demon grinned under its Collins-style helmet.

(End of this chapter)