Ghost Knight King's Dungeon Project

Chapter 10 [The Mathematics of Sharks and Adventurers]

At ten o'clock in the morning, the sunlight danced between the zigzagging, sloping redwood roofs of Fallingthorn City, reflecting off the rough, durable white stone brick walls.

Both the brick walls and the mahogany roof have rough, eroded marks with pits and bumps.

This is a masterpiece of the humus and dust climate of the Kanas Plain. The wind erosion is like a magical little monster holding a carving tool, penetrating almost everywhere, leaving an etched roughness on people's faces and every building.

While the Alliance's magic array in Fallenthorn City offers considerable protection against the Corruption Dust, this protection is only effective under normal circumstances.

In the extreme climate of the Demon Realm, even the combined efforts of twelve Alliance mages working together to create a protective array cannot provide complete protection. During the dust storm, the rotting dust still howls and invades the protective array, pounding on the tightly closed doors and windows of every household like a demon, leaving etched marks on the walls and roofs.

The Kanas Plain is prone to dust storms, each one capable of suffocating adventurers from outside the city who lack proper armor and shelter.

Therefore, full-coverage helmets, masks, heavy scarves, or magical veils are almost indispensable for adventurers in the Kanas Wasteland.

Randall still remembers the first time he experienced the Duststorm. Thank goodness there was no mission. Everyone was hiding in the adventurer's barracks in Thicket of Fallen Blaze. The locked doors and windows rattled in the gale. Everything outside was a frenzied reddish-brown, like the end of the world.

Serena, the apprentice mage in the group, said that in the desolate lands, even the dust contains magical essence. This is not ordinary wind erosion, but "magical erosion," and even cities built with magic arrays and magical materials can hardly resist the corrosive dust... unless one lives underground like the demons.

After all, this is not a habitable zone. Those who are willing to live here are brave souls who believe that "the bigger the storm, the more expensive the fish," and dare to fight against the malice of the world.

Rondar Riska pulled himself out of his thoughts from the etchings on the roof and white walls.

This is his habit: to constantly observe his surroundings, seek every bit of useful information, and ponder the origin of every unusual occurrence.

He flipped through the contents of his small notebook while habitually chewing on his pen tip as he walked through the streets of Fallenthorn City toward the Alliance Hall.

Uncle Robin and Uncle Carlisle said that to deal with fierce human enemies like bandits, they needed frontal melee units, preferably heavily armored... He was organizing his thoughts.

If there were one more melee fighter in the team, the average amount of loot and income would be reduced again. Would his teammates agree to that? He thought with a headache.

Then… deduct it from my quota. He made up his mind and wrote the words “voluntarily giving up part of the bounty and loot, inviting melee units to join the team” in his notebook.

Taking less and hiring one more soldier is better than dying in a bandit suppression mission.

What else is needed?
Food and rations for the road cost 13 gold coins and 5 silver coins. Enough for five people? No, we'll need to add extra for that warrior…

Fire oil bombs, 30 gold coins each, buy 5. Fire attack is the best choice for conquering fixed camps. To attack bandit camps, you need... that is 150 gold coins.

The Demonic Creature Repelling Torch costs 15 gold coins each. Would 20 be enough? —No, of course not. The journey to Beastbone Hills is too long, and camping in the wilderness halfway is almost inevitable. Nighttime encounters with beast herds are especially dangerous. Perhaps 25…375 gold coins. It's better to buy something you never use than to need it and not have it on hand.

Healing potions cost 13 gold coins per vial on the market—but Ruby, the apprentice potion maker in the party, can brew healing potions, and if you only buy the ingredients, it only costs 4 gold coins… It’s a really lucrative industry.

Of course, Ruby's potions were of much lower quality than those on the market, and the healing process had extremely painful side effects. Rondar's party lacked professional temple priests, healers, and elven consecrators, so they could only rely on Ruby's healing potions and Serena's one or two healing spells to barely maintain their stamina. Injuries were commonplace; based on experience, a medium-sized quest required at least 22 vials per person, which for a single person would cost… 88 gold coins.

A powerful painkiller, market price 5 gold coins per vial... used in conjunction with Ruby's Super Pain Relief Potion, for use in combat and healing to prevent excruciating pain from hindering movement. Therefore, 22 vials are needed per person. In the end, it's not much cheaper than the market price.

Magical antidote, market price 13 gold coins per bottle. There are far too many poisonous plants and animals in the Kana Wasteland, and Ruby doesn't yet know how to brew such advanced potions. Just to be safe, I'll need 3 bottles…

Polishing oil for maintaining longswords and fermented brownwood oil for maintaining longbows, market price 5 gold coins.

Stone Skin Potion, 82 gold coins per bottle. If you're going to fight bandits in melee and want to survive, this is almost essential. You'll probably need at least three bottles...

The last hunting mission used up most of our arrows, so we need to buy a new batch. The mission log says there are about 50 bandits, which translates to about 50 enchanted arrowheads and 50 armor-piercing arrowheads…

……

After mentally calculating to about 70-80%, Randall couldn't help but sigh.

Perhaps it was a bit hasty to snatch this order so easily, Randall thought.

Being an adventurer is an unpredictable and expensive profession. You earn money by collecting quests, gathering items, and selling loot. If you don't take on quests or do any exploration, you don't get paid.

The 5332 Erdrick gold coin bounty for eliminating bandits is ultimately a large sum of money.

The five-person team each received over a thousand gold coins, but after careful calculation, the cost wasn't much.

Many laymen stared enviously at the large sums on the Alliance quest list, half jealous and half resentful, saying that adventurers were making a killing, as if they could earn enough to play for three days by working just one day. Deep down, Randall was actually a very simple person; he was delighted to hear that he could work one day and rest three.

In addition, he had always loved to run around since he was a child, poking and touching everything. He almost got kicked to death for pulling a horse's tail, and there's still a scar on his left forehead from a horse's hoof. He was disliked by everyone in the surrounding villages. Hearing that being an adventurer meant you could poke and touch everything and get paid for it, he was tricked into becoming an adventurer by those words.

But... that's not how it works at all. If you believe that nonsense about working one day and resting three, you'll only survive four days in the wasteland.

Equipment maintenance, healing potions, various consumable items... If you don't want to die in the wasteland, whether you're a novice or a veteran, you need to prepare a lot of things before each trip to ensure everything goes smoothly.

If you want to go further and become stronger, you need to save money to buy more expensive enhancement potions and body-forging materials, as well as more and better weapons and equipment.

All supplies were very expensive, and after all that, the money from the spoils of war was simply not enough.

Without a well-organized and detailed overall plan and a clear understanding of resource management, adventurers not only cannot progress and grow, but often end up working for free. Randall pondered this.

The kind of wealthy and powerful adventurers described in the rumors do exist, but they are all experienced, high-level adventurers.

The vast majority of low- to mid-level adventurers not only cannot afford the potions that allow them to grow stronger, but they also have no savings. If they don't take on work for a day, they will go hungry.

According to the guard and the receptionist at the Alliance Hall, forty percent of the new adventurers who come to the Wasteland to pursue their dreams discover the harsh reality within a year and slink back home.

Forty percent of the remains remained forever on the Kanas Plain, devoured by wild beasts, absorbed by demonic plants, and, if they were lucky, perhaps twisted into undead creations by overflowing magic. The remains lingered eternally in the hazy, decaying dust of the wasteland on the horizon.

The remaining 20% ​​became adventurers. Some remained stagnant, while others became low- to mid-level adventurers. Only a very small minority—approximately 2%—achieved breakthroughs to level five or higher through improvements in their potion-making materials and accumulated experience.

During the year he followed the level six adventurer [Windsword] Norman, Rondar did not learn powerful storm sword techniques, nor did he learn magic or potion recipes, and he didn't even get much of the spoils.

But he followed Norman around like a puppy, serving him tea and water, carrying account books and trying to curry favor. He even gave up part of his share of the spoils, just hoping to look at the account books next to Norman's desk for a little longer. This shamelessness and willingness to ask questions eventually caught the attention of the famous [Windsword] Norman, who had casually kept this young man in his party as a teaching duty for high-ranking adventurers in the Alliance.

After confirming that Randall's courtship was merely for the purpose of learning, and not because he was gay or had any other strange ideas, Norman finally agreed to let him observe his adventurous plans. In fact, out of appreciation for his junior, Norman took the initiative to teach him a great deal.

During that year, he learned planning and management skills from Norman, a seasoned adventurer with fourteen years of experience, at Norman's desk. From bits and pieces of money-saving tips to calculating income and expenses for mission preparation, from daily expenses for food, clothing, shelter, and transportation to weapon maintenance techniques.

Norman at the desk wasn't as cold and ruthless as the legendary "Windsword," but rather more like an accountant, a thrifty housekeeper, or a strict older brother.

“I come from the western kingdom of Florence, by the sea, from Rondar Risca. It is a country of maritime trade and shipping.” One day, Norman finished his plans and was idly sitting at his desk, drinking tea. Like an older brother, he sat and chatted with Rondar. “My hometown is by the sea. The damp sea breeze always makes my treasured books limp. Outside the window, there is a forest of white sails and masts.”

“When I was thirteen, I went out to sea with my father to fish. Huge pale sharks swam around in the sea, hunting seals. They had densely packed steel teeth and could bite a seal in two with one bite, turning the seawater red. When I was young, I went out to sea with my father to fish. I held onto the gunwale and was very afraid that sharks would eat people.”

He smiled.

“But my father told me that most sharks hate eating humans,” Norman said at the time. “Because humans are too thin, all bones, with little fat and meat. The energy gained from eating humans is less than the energy consumed in catching up with and feeding them. If a shark only ate humans, it would get thinner and thinner and eventually starve to death.”

"Sharks are very intelligent animals. They know that the seemingly abundant ocean is actually a cruel and harsh blue wasteland, and every swim requires energy. So they will prioritize hunting creatures with high fat content, such as seals. As for humans... the input and output are completely unprofitable, and they will not do business at a loss."

"Adventurers are the same. The Wasteland, like the ocean, may seem lush and resource-rich, but it's actually a cruel and difficult place." Norman took a sip of tea. "People used to say that the Wasteland was full of enchanted materials, and you could sell even a handful of grass for money." Yes, of course, that's true. But, Randall, have you ever seen an adventurer who could survive for half a year just by gathering quests?

Rondar shook his head.

“Because a simple calculation shows that even the simplest gathering task requires about three days of time and effort, but the money earned isn’t even enough for two days’ food and lodging. Most of the enchanted materials in the Wasteland are inedible for humans, and it’s located in a remote area, far from food and supplies production areas. All supplies have to be transported from afar, with the added cost of caravan transportation. Everything is very expensive here.” Norman smiled.

"Many large tasks are like this; the reward may seem huge, but the necessary effort required to complete the task is likely to be greater than the reward."

"Life is not an easy thing. We are not much different from sharks. We need to spend a lot of effort to calculate and weigh the benefits and costs of everything in order to find a glimmer of hope in the barren land. Think more, calculate more."

"If you take on any task indiscriminately, even if you complete every task successfully, you will eventually starve to death. It's just a matter of time. That's the mathematics of adventurers."

……

Perhaps I shouldn't have taken on this dangerous bandit-suppression mission.

Randall recalled, savoring the words his predecessor Norman had left him.

Ultimately, I was blinded by the seemingly large sum of money.

This task is completely unwise. It seems to offer high rewards, but completing it requires an investment that is far greater than the potential reward.

No wonder two level 5 adventurers stood in front of the quest wall for a few minutes before leaving, which allowed me to snag the quest amidst a scramble of level 2 and 3 adventurers...

But it's too late to back out now. The Alliance rules state that abandoning a quest midway or breaching the contract arbitrarily will result in a penalty. A qualified adventurer must have a sense of contract. He sighed.

We've learned our lesson.

But you still have to pay the money you're owed.

On the bright side, bandits who can survive in the wilderness are usually quite skilled. Perhaps there are a few high-level loot items in the bandit camp; if they successfully wipe out the bandits, collecting and selling them would at least break even.

Rondar sighed again, preparing to step into the Adventurers' Guild Hall to try his luck and see if there were any free warriors he could recruit into his party.

The next moment, he heard Uncle Robin's familiar voice:

"Hey, Randall! Kid! Come back here!"

He turned his head and watched Guard One cross the street and stride toward him.

"Hurry up, come with me to the city gate." Guard Number One called out, grabbing his arm and pulling him towards the city gate without further ado. "We've found you two perfect new members, very good warriors, much better than that clueless swordsman in your team! With them, although I can't guarantee we can easily wipe out the bandits, your team will definitely return intact!"

"...What?" Before Randall could react, he had already been half-dragged and half-carried for a long distance.

From a great distance, he spotted two tall figures at the city gate.

They were two fully armored knights. The one in black armor carried a hammer and spear on his back and wore a dark red cloak. The one in bronze armor carried a sword and shield and wore a tattered gray hooded cloak.

“Look! Rondar, do you see their armor? It’s in good condition, but it’s old, dirty, and worn out,” Guard One whispered, pointing.

"The fact that the armor is in good condition shows that they have taken good care of the equipment."

"The equipment isn't brand new or shiny, which means it's not just a newbie's showy shell, but has really been through a lot of battles."

"Especially the one in black armor, with sword marks and beast claw marks on his armor, and carrying a heavy hammer and spear. He trekked a long distance in full armor without even panting. This level of strength, endurance and stamina is likely that of a high-level war knight who has been forcibly tempered by high-grade magic potions, and is an expert in breaking through groups of armor."

"Look closely, the Black Knight's gauntlets are claw-shaped." Guard Number One put his arm around Rondar's shoulder and whispered, pointing. "Did you notice? Her entire left hand, down to her forearm, is covered in dark stains—the residue of dried blood from long ago. This means she once used her claw-shaped gauntlets to plunge directly into an enemy's body, tearing out their internal organs—she's a terrifying warrior with an extremely aggressive tactical style! The last time I saw this kind of horrific tactic of smashing through armor and tearing out internal organs with my fists was with a Bloodstained officer in the Erdrick Empire's army. This is almost at the level of a [Stone Warrior]!"

Rondar stared at the black-armored knight, feeling a strange chill run down his spine. He had felt the same way when he first encountered Norman, the "Windsword," in a mission long ago.

Powerful, indifferent, ruthless, and low-key.

“Look at that guy in the bronze armor. Do you see anything special about the sword and shield he’s using?” Guard Number One asked.

Rondar shook his head and took out his notebook.

"Ha! His knight's longsword is irregular and non-standard. He modified it himself, deliberately making it shorter than the standard length." Guard One chuckled. "Standard longswords are for mounted combat in open spaces and are very long. The length of his knight's sword is more suitable for foot combat and can be used in relatively narrow spaces such as caves, indoors, and city walls. The shortened sword is less likely to hit the wall and bounce off when swung—that wandering knight in bronze armor probably had experience with weapons bouncing off walls, so he modified the weapon's length himself."

Randall was startled, recalling how he had been accidentally knocked away by the pile of stones during a battle near the white stone pile in the wasteland. He instinctively pulled out a charcoal pencil and quickly jotted down the relevant notes in his notebook.

“Look at his shield.” Guard One grabbed Rondar’s shoulder. “These days, very few new recruits carry shields because they feel it’s humiliating to get hit. But in real combat, a shield is very effective. Even a small shield can protect against stray arrows. It can not only protect yourself, but also effectively protect your teammates.”

"Full armor is already quite protective. But he's wearing a full set of heavy armor, yet he still carries a shield, which suggests that the shield is likely intended to protect those around him—a person's weapon reflects their character, and you can tell a lot about a person from their weapon choice. His tactical style is quite steady, and he's a kind young knight who likes to take care of others."

“Uncle Robin, you’ve had too much to drink! Adventurers like that must be at least level five or six, right? How could they possibly look down on our team?” Rondar swallowed hard. “We’re just a newbie team! I’m just a newbie who just advanced to level three!”

"What's there to be afraid of? They're ascetic knights traveling here, wanting to become adventurers, but they haven't registered their adventurer status yet. Even if they do register, they can only start from level one," Guardian Number One said. "Why don't you go and guide them through the process, help them out, and while you're at it, make some connections and become friends? Wouldn't that solve everything?"

He reached out and gave Randall a hard shove from behind.

Randall stumbled two steps toward the two knights, nearly bumping into the broad, imposing bronze breastplate of one of the bronze-armored knights.

The bronze-armored knight reached out and grabbed Randall's arm, helping him up.

Rondar shivered, feeling as if a pair of iron clamps soaked in ice water were gripping his arm.

The bronze armor of the knight was cold to the touch, and his body emanated a strange chill.

His gauntlets were wrapped with strips of cloth to insulate them from the cold of the bronze armor, but they still couldn't completely conceal the unknown chill.

The bronze-armored knight lowered his head slightly, the narrow slits of his eyes beneath his cloak hood staring at Randall like some armored behemoth lurking in the shadows, intently watching its prey.

Randall imagined the heavily armored scorpions hidden beneath the bone-white giant rocks of the Kanas Plain, the giant crabs of the evil sea that his predecessor Norman had mentioned, or the legendary earth-devouring worms ridden by the Demon King. He was so caught up in his own imagination that he found it hard to breathe.

The next second, the bronze-armored knight's cold, hard gauntlets warmly grasped Randall's hand and shook it vigorously up and down:

“You must be the Rondar Riska that the old man mentioned, right? It’s a pleasure to meet you, Rondar, my friend!” A rather young voice came from the rusty bronze helmet, sounding almost the same age as himself. “I am Samo, a war knight from a distant monastery.”

“Ah…yes, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Samo…Brother.” Rondar felt as if his hands were being soaked in a bucket of cold water.

The stark contrast between the cold, hard armor and the incredibly warm and friendly manner of the person before him created a surreal and jarring effect.

It was so jarring, it was like coming from another world. He thought.

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(End of this chapter)