Ghost Knight King's Dungeon Project

Chapter 27 [The God of Wealth, the God of Love, and the Super Little Sun]

The ancient coin, forged from a mixture of black and white metals, was tossed into the air, tumbled once under the ceiling of the adventurer's barracks, and landed steadily back in the Nether Bronze Gauntlet with a ding.

"Is this the ancient coin from the Age of Gods?" Samael held the leather money bag, examining a coin in his hand.

Two metals, one black and one white, are woven together using complex casting techniques, with silver-white metal patterns inlaid on the black ancient coin base.

The front design features three small spheres arranged in an equilateral triangle, surrounding a large sphere in the center.

On the back is a crudely made bird-like object with outstretched wings.

To be honest, this thing that looks like a "bird in flight" looks very much like a spaceship from a science fiction work... Samael pondered, slowly holding the ancient coin with his metal hand.

"No matter what, I feel more at ease taking the money now that I've completed the task." He examined the ancient coins.

“At least Valak won’t crush us anymore…” Talia tossed her helmet aside, collapsed onto the bed, and breathed a sigh of relief. “And our whereabouts won’t be revealed either. Valak is an arrogant monarch, and given his personality, it’s practically impossible for him to go back on his word once he’s made a promise—thanks to your brilliant plan… although it deviated a bit from the initial strategy, thankfully the final result was about the same—how did you come up with bottled magic? I’d almost forgotten we even had that.”

“I’m a Dark Souls player—which means that you have to think about what you have in your pocket and make good use of every tool you have while you’re on your journey,” Samael explained. “Bows, shields, different weapons, different equipment, different items…everything has its use. Always think about what you have in your pocket.”

“However, I originally thought Norman Passat wouldn’t notice the mold bags—they all look exactly the same. That way, the glass bottles would break when the moldy food bags were thrown into the dungeon front camp’s granary, filling the entire granary with the toxic slime of the Rot Howlers.” Samael shook his head slightly. “He’s more perceptive than I thought.”

He put the ancient coins back into his money bag with a clinking sound and stared blankly at the bag full of ancient coins.

"You mentioned before that the demons only use these ancient coins from the Age of Gods... Is it limited to the dungeons? Or do demon lords trade with each other?" Samael looked at Talia.

“It’s a unified demon currency, because even demon lords need to trade. Different dungeons in different regions produce different resources, so if you want resources from other dungeons, you must use the ancient coins of the Age of Gods to trade,” Talia explained.

"This kind of cross-regional trade is usually carried out through demon caravans. Some caravans are high-ranking demon subordinates sent by the dungeon lords to escort valuable goods. But most caravans are run by exiles."

“What are exiles?” Samael asked.

“The relatively weaker demons are considered worthless by traditional demon society, so they are driven out of the dungeons and wander the surface of the desolate lands… just like my sister.” Talia sighed. “Not all demons are powerful and terrifying. That’s a stereotype. It’s just that the relatively weaker demons have been driven out. The cruel dungeons only allow the valuable and strong to remain.”

"The exiles banished from the dungeons would band together for mutual support, forming large caravans that would transport goods and trade between the dungeons like nomadic tribes or long-distance merchant caravans."

“They would use brutal methods to remove any features that suggested they were demons, such as horns or scales, to disguise themselves as humans and obtain supplies for their journeys in human kingdoms or the territories of elves and dwarves…” Talia stammered, “Well, in a sense, we are also exiles now, just the stronger kind.”

“Oh…by the way, I’ve never seen any horns or scales on you before.” Samael raised his hands and gestured the shape of demon horns on the sides of his helmet.

“Not all demons have these characteristics; it’s random.” Talia rolled her eyes at the ceiling. “Moreover, these biological characteristics can be actively altered through powerful demonic psychic energy—the principle is similar to human demonization. It’s just that the exiles’ psychic energy is too weak to catalyze and modify their own form, so they can only actively saw off their horns and tear off their scales.”

"Humans believe that demons have strange growths because in demon culture, features such as horns, scales, feathers, and sharp claws are symbols of strength and beauty. Therefore, many powerful demon individuals, including monarchs, often actively use psychic energy to modify their appearance—they think it makes them more handsome or elegant."

"Humans have difficulty distinguishing exiles, and can only see the powerful individuals in the dungeons, which is why they assume that all demons have such strange spawns—which makes it much easier for exiles to disguise themselves."

She touched her steel-gray hair, turned over with her head on the pillow, and stared quietly into Samael's armored back.

"What's wrong?" Samael snapped out of his daze, tossed the leather money bag back into the iron box by the bedside, and turned to look at Talia, who was lying on her side on the bed.

“Um… well, about my appearance…” Talia’s gaze darted away for a moment. “I’m a hybrid, so my appearance might be closer to human… were you human in your previous life or… I mean, what’s your aesthetic sense? Do you think… creatures with horns or claws would look better?”

"Huh?" Samael was stunned.

"If it had horns, it would be very inconvenient to sleep," he said after thinking about it for a moment.

"Then, what kind looks better?" Talia asked hesitantly. "What...what kind do you like?"

“I like Havel’s armor and the Black Knight’s halberd,” Samael blurted out instinctively.

"……what is that?"

"It's a super powerful piece of equipment from Dark Souls 1."

silence.

The two stared at each other. Talia, propping herself up on one elbow, sat up from the bed, her other hand slightly bent, pointing towards the handle of the hammer and spear. She seemed to want to jump up and strike, but hesitated. Her mouth was slightly open, her dead fish eyes with dark circles staring, as if she wanted to say something but didn't want to.

"I understand." She suddenly became cold and turned her back to Samael.

"Have I done something wrong again?" Samael wondered.

The last time Talia was so unhappy, it seemed, was because she had mistakenly used the scanner on her—based on her experience with enemies so far, using identification magic on a living person would be detected and would make the target feel offended by being spied on.

Tap, tap. Footsteps suddenly echoed up the stairs in the hallway outside the door, and a moment later, there was a gentle knock on the door of the room.

dong dong dong.

“Brother Samos, Brother Taran, I have brought the reward for this mission,” Rondar’s voice rang out from outside the door.

Talia sat up abruptly, grabbed the helmet buckle beside her, and turned around.

The two exchanged a glance, Samael nodded, and quickly opened the door.

Rondar stood outside the door, clutching two large money bags, a sword-shaped object wrapped in rags hanging from his waist. For some reason, he looked somewhat tired and lost.

“I just finished processing the sale of loot and the payment of mission rewards from the Alliance Hall. This is your share.” Rondar said, handing over the money bag with difficulty.

Samael took the money bag and paused slightly. The bag was surprisingly heavy, indicating that the amount was considerable.

“Thanks to the two monks, our team was able to return safely from this mission.” As if seeing through Samael’s thoughts, Randall took the initiative to explain, “Two monks, 2500 Erdrich gold coins each.”

"This is too much! The total reward for the mission is only a little over five thousand, isn't it?" Samael answered subconsciously, trying to open his own money bag to refuse a portion.

“No, no, this is what you two deserve—in fact, you should deserve more, it’s just that the reward for this mission is limited.” Rondar insisted, “Brother Samos is really too kind, but there’s no need to worry about us. This mission is special, the spoils are huge, especially the grain, which sold for 3,300, the bandits’ miscellaneous equipment sold for over 1,000, and the bandit leader swordsman still has a 1,000 gold coin bounty, which is also included in the mission reward. The total amount adds up to 10,000, and we still have enough for our share, even several hundred more than our usual small to medium-sized surface missions. Please accept it without worry.”

"Oh, I see," Samael said, realizing what had happened. The spoils of war included a large quantity of grain, which had been sold to Norman Passat at double the price, fetching over three thousand units—a pleasant surprise. Everyone seemed quite happy about it.

“There are some other things to attend to in the team, so I’ll take my leave now…” Rondar nodded in acknowledgment, turned and walked away quickly, looking somewhat preoccupied.

Samael watched the other person's figure disappear at the top of the stairs at the end of the corridor, then slowly turned around and went back to his room, closing the door behind him.

"Gone?" Talia asked.

Samael nodded, but then saw Talia throw her helmet aside, snort, and lie down with her back to him.

What are you still unhappy about? Shouldn't you be happy to get the money? Samael was quite puzzled.

He had intended to cough twice to attract Talia's attention, but then realized he seemed to have no throat. After hesitating for a moment, he carefully went around the edge of the bed, circled around to the direction Talia was facing, and placed the large money bag full of gold coins in front of her.

Talia snorted again, turned over, and once again turned her back to Samael.

The humming sound was different from her usual contemptuous and cruel snort when she crushed enemies; it carried a slightly awkward gentleness, like the chirping of a fledgling bird.

Samael had never heard of it before, and found it rather novel.

“Uh… well, the mission reward is 2500 Adric gold coins each, 5000 in total.” Samael circled around to her again. “How much money would we need to cross the Empire and enter the ancient battlefield, the Undead Plains, in the center of the continent?”

“…About three or four hundred.” Talia avoided his gaze from under his helmet. “You can hire long-distance carriages within the Erdrick Empire. Even if you encounter a shady carriage, it shouldn’t cost more than eight hundred.”

“How are we going to spend all this extra money?” Samael asked, carrying the heavy money bag.

"I don't know. Human wealth means nothing to us. Whatever." Talia said casually, then turned her back to Samael and hummed softly, like the chirping of a fledgling bird.

Samael pondered.

“I…I’m going out to buy something. Do you want to come with me…would you like to have dinner?” He picked up his gold coin pouch, emptied two-thirds of it, and then tied the pouch to his waist. “Was the food at that little tavern last time any good?”

"I'm not hungry. Help yourself," Talia replied from her reclining position, as if in a huff.

Samael put on his tattered cloak, closed the door, and went out.

The travel expenses are sufficient, and barring any unforeseen circumstances, we'll soon be leaving Fallenthorn City for the border of the Adric Empire. How to get past the border checkpoint is still a question.

But now...

He went downstairs and greeted the proprietress at the counter along the way.

An older man carrying a harpoon gun was drinking tea in the lobby, holding a large roll of snakeskin. When he saw Samael coming downstairs, the two nodded to each other.

Night had fallen, the sun had just disappeared below the horizon, and two moons hung high in the sky. Yet the streets were still bustling with merchants and adventurers, and the lights inside houses flickered faintly through the windowpanes under the night sky. Scattered lanterns and candlelight along the roadside resembled sparse stars.

The market was still open at night, and Samael walked through the market streets, looking at each stall.

As adventurers passed by, the vendors' shouts rose and fell.

"Secondhand weapons! Buying and selling secondhand weapons—don't know what to do with your idle, old weapons? Come find Old Reggie..."

"Baked pies! Delicious bacon and ham pies! Even Warcraft would drool over them..."

"Lucky ornaments! Lucky ornaments! Lucky ornaments made with high-grade magical beast feathers! May they bring you good fortune on your next adventure, and may you dig right into the Demon King's treasury with a single shovel..." the stall owner shouted.

Samael tilted his helmet slightly as he glanced at it. The dyed feathers of the Cracked Claw Bird… He looked away.

Are there no sweets at the market? Based on his past experience in coaxing children, he knew that giving them sweets when they were unhappy usually worked.

“Look, it’s him…it’s that tall knight in bronze armor…” he heard a muffled voice behind him. “He’s so tall…his shoulders are so broad…”

"Isn't this the one you like?"

"Keep your voice down!"

Samael turned his head and saw the two young mage girls he had seen in the main hall of Barracks No. 3 before.

The two monks had a small stall in front of them with several large buckets on it.

He glanced over curiously. The bucket contained translucent ice blocks, emitting faint, low-temperature white smoke.

The short-haired girl wearing runestone glove sneered and shoved the long-haired girl next to her.

"You...you need something...what?" The long-haired girl holding the runestone staff blushed and stammered, "We...this is pure ice, made with a magical catalyst, it can...it can keep things fresh..."

“Oh. Ice…” Samael pondered, “Are you two adventurers?”

“Strictly speaking, it’s not really. We registered as adventurers just to make it easier to stay in the barracks,” the short-haired girl wearing runestone gauntlets explained. “We’re still students. Our mentor has been working for the Alliance for the past few years and needs to assist with the operation of the monster exorcism array in Fallenthorn City, so he brought us here to stay for a while to learn and also to purchase some precious catalyst materials—materials in the habitable zone are resold multiple times and are very expensive.”

She pointed to the large barrels in front of her. "These ice blocks were made using magic to keep the potion vault and high-grade enchanted material vault in Fallenthorn City cold-preserved. But we accidentally made six extra barrels today, and it would be a waste to throw them away, so we're taking them to the market to try and sell them. Maybe some potion makers will need them—after all, some unstable potions need to be preserved at low temperatures."

“Oh, I see.” Samael pondered, “Have you two thought about crushing these ice cubes and adding something like… jam to make a dessert?”

"Jam? Dessert?" The two female mages looked at each other in bewilderment.

……

In a corner of the market, the potion master Ruby sat on the stone steps, sobbing uncontrollably.

The mage Serena and the hunter Rondar stood beside her, trying to comfort her.

“I…I’ve been taking the exam for five years…” Ruby choked up. “It’s pointless! It’s impossible to succeed…The Potions Society only recruits the top-ranked newcomers each year, and they’re eliminated for the slightest problem. There’s absolutely no hope!”

"Okay, don't be so pessimistic. Maybe you'll pass this time? I heard there will be far fewer competitors this year." Serena hugged Ruby, not caring about her snot and tears, and pressed her head into the embrace of her robe.

“My family borrowed money everywhere to send me to Matthews Academy. My father even developed a leg ailment while trying to save money for me, and now he's crippled in one leg. They were counting on me to pass the official potion master qualification exam, but I've been trying for five whole years and still haven't passed…” Ruby clutched Serena's clothes tightly, sobbing uncontrollably. “I've been an adventurer for over a year, and I'm too ashamed to go back to my family…”

"If I hadn't come to the Wasteland to gather materials myself, I wouldn't have been able to afford even potion ingredients in the Habitable Zone... Most new potion masters are unemployed right after graduation. Potion masters without money at home simply can't afford the expensive raw materials, so they have no choice but to come to the Wasteland, splitting open monster droppings every day to look for traces of materials inside..."

"Alright, alright, we'll definitely succeed this time. There are still two weeks left, we'll definitely succeed." Serena comforted her softly, then looked up and glared at Rondar, who was standing there dumbfounded, signaling him to say something as well.

Me? What can I say? Should I take the exam for her? Randall pointed to himself and mouthed the question.

Serena raised her fist and punched Rondar's shin with her backhand.

Randall grimaced and took two steps back, clutching his calves.

“Serena is right, we’ll definitely succeed this time,” he said dryly, trying his best to comfort her.

But Ruby kept crying, her tears flowing like a dam bursting.

He needed to find something to distract her. Rondar rubbed his calf and suddenly noticed a stall in the market not far away that was making a lot of noise. A crowd of passersby had gathered around the stall, and customers were lining up in front of it, arguing and waving their coins.

"Five silver coins a piece! Don't scramble, everyone line up!" Surrounded by customers were two bewildered female mages and... a familiar tall figure in bronze armor and a cloak.

“Please line up.” The Samoth monk’s gentle yet powerful voice echoed at the stall. With a swift embrace of his strong, cold, armored arms, he divided the crowded people into two neat lines.

"Please line up! Do not disrupt the market order!" The two guards on duty responsible for maintaining market order also rushed over, shouting as they curiously peered over, wanting to see which stall was doing such a good business.

Brother Samos… Randall didn’t want to disturb the mysterious knight, but Ruby was having trouble calming down and desperately needed something to distract her. He gently patted Ruby’s shoulder and pointed to the market not far away.

“Look, what’s that?” Rondar said in a low voice.

Ruby choked back tears as she looked up, her eyes filled with tears, and saw the familiar bronze-armored figure carrying a plate of something, walking briskly towards her with a clattering sound.

"Are you feeling down?" Samael leaned down and handed over a plate of a mixture of shaved ice, jam, and crushed berries, along with a small spoon. "In my faraway homeland, people eat this when they're feeling down."

Ruby looked up, her eyes dappled with tears, at the cold armor beneath the cloak's hood and the dark gaps in the helmet.

"Come and have a taste."

She felt a pair of cold, hard hands gently pat her shoulder and place a plate and spoon in her hands.

She gripped the plate, sobbing, and felt the cool, sweet and sour flavor melt on her tongue.

……

Ruby calmed down. Serena put her arm around her shoulder, and they strolled through the market.

Randall and Samael sat side by side on a rooftop, looking down at the women strolling in the distance. A little further out, a new dessert called "jam shaved ice" was selling like hotcakes in the market, with customers lining up in two long queues, waving their coins under the watchful eyes of the Alliance guards.

“You are full of secrets, Brother Samos,” Rondar said, stunned.

“Is that so?” Samael asked casually.

“It’s the secret of sunlight, bright, gentle, warm and powerful,” Rondar said absently, “even though your body is cold and empty.”

He found out?! Samael shuddered slightly with a clang.

“I saw the bandit leader plunge his bloodsteel longsword into your body, but you were unharmed,” Rondar said softly. “Don’t worry, Elliott was still unconscious and didn’t see it. I also swear I will never reveal this secret—for someone like you, Brother Samos, it doesn’t matter who you are or what you are. Your very existence is like the sun, strong and bright. I am honored to know someone like you.”

Samael remained silent for a moment.

"Thank you," he whispered.

“Brother Samo, you mentioned before that you wanted to enter the Erdrick Empire along the way,” Rondar said. “Our potion master Ruby is about to return to the Empire for her sixth Potion Master Qualification Examination, and our team plans to escort her back. If you wish to enter the Empire, you can travel with us.”

"Thank you," Samael said. "Did the sword I gave you cause you any trouble?"

Randall sighed.

“There’s nothing we can do about it.” He took a long bundle from his waist, revealing a blood-red sword. “This is one of the Imperial military’s secrets: a blood weapon. If Imperial soldiers see it, it will cause a lot of trouble.”

"Perhaps this sword can make our team advance by leaps and bounds, and perhaps in the future we will no longer have to be stingy with a few hundred gold coins, but if we keep this sword, it will ultimately be a loss."

"While I cherish the opportunity to meet someone like Brother Samos, this gift is still somewhat..."

Samael took the Bloodsteel Longsword, placed his hand on the blade, and smoothly ran his gauntlet over it.

The blood-red sword was instantly covered with a thin layer of semi-molten bronze plating. A few seconds later, the originally dazzling and terrifying blood steel longsword instantly turned into an inconspicuous rusted bronze longsword.

“Take it, it won’t be noticeable this way. I’m sorry for the trouble. Their forging principles are similar, so it shouldn’t affect their performance.” He gently placed the sword beside Rondar. “Consider it a symbol of friendship, Rondar brothers.”

Clang! Samael got up, jumped off the roof, grabbed the brim of his cloak hood with one hand, and left.

Randall watched his departing figure, looked down at the blood steel weapon that had turned into a rusty bronze longsword, and slowly reached out to grasp the hilt.

It warms to the touch, with a perfect balance and feel, like holding a gift from the sun.

……

dong dong dong.

Samael, carrying a box of jam-flavored ice, excitedly knocked on the door of the barracks. This large box was something he had asked the two mage girls to save for him; otherwise, given how popular it was, there probably wouldn't even be any ice left at the bottom of the stall's bucket, and if he arrived late, he probably wouldn't be able to buy it even if he had the money.

In fact, the box of jam and ice cream didn't cost Samael anything; it was a free gift from the two mage girls. They insisted on not accepting money and even wanted to share some of the proceeds with Samael—but Samael refused.

Samael reflected that he might have been too conspicuous tonight, which didn't quite align with the exiles' principle of keeping a low profile.

The door opened, and Talia hurriedly reached out and pulled him into the room.

“My God, where have you been again? I’ve been waiting for you for ages—if you don’t come back soon, I’m going to go out and look for you.” She gasped for breath, throwing her hammer, spear, and helmet aside.

"Clatter, clatter!" Samael placed the large box on the table, striking a pose as if making a grand entrance. "The food from my hometown is called ice cream! Come and try some!"

Talia opened her mouth as if to say something. She stared blankly at the ice cream on the table, then at Samael, and finally, she suddenly burst out laughing, coughing and covering her mouth as she laughed.

"What's wrong?" Samael asked. "It's going to melt if we don't eat it soon!"

“It’s nothing…” Talia wiped her eyes. “It’s nothing, little sun.”

(End of this chapter)