Ghost Knight King's Dungeon Project

Chapter 70 [Magic Array]

“What’s the point of flames breaking through the fog?” the burly man with the antler frog helmet said, grabbing a flatbread sprinkled with roasted beans from the bronze plate next to him. “We just scouted Rahador’s forces yesterday, so we should just crush them head-on today.”

He brought the food close to the pale flames of the burning demonic charcoal, stuffing the food and his own cold body into the fire, as if trying to find some warmth in a cold and empty world.

“Rahador’s tactics rely heavily on the fog around the lake,” said the robust figure in the Gothic knight’s helmet. “Clearing the fog would render his tactics ineffective.”

He beckoned, and the bell-helmeted corpse knights around him gathered around with large trays of dark bronze. The trays contained piles of bean crisps picked from tall grass, a large plate of unidentified wild berries and berries, a plate of dried mushrooms, some flatbreads, and several kinds of unidentifiable monster meat chunks—the chunks had exoskeletons on them, resembling a combination of some kind of large crab and scorpion.

“We can just crush them instead of messing around with Rahado.” Ansba tossed the dried mushrooms into the fire, savoring their flavor, and unconsciously rummaged through the flames with his gauntlets. “If we combine our forces and take on losses, we can forcefully take down his fog-making behemoth. The fog will dissipate quickly, and Rahado’s tactics will become ineffective—these green mushrooms are quite good, with a rich umami flavor.”

“We need that behemoth, Ansba.” Samael shook his head. “That behemoth can create very dense fog, which can affect the climate within a certain range. This is very important. If we defeat Rahador, this behemoth will be a valuable trophy—we will also need it in later battles… My friend mentioned that the mushroom is highly poisonous, but it may not mean anything to us, after all, we are just tasting the flavor of fire.”

“Relying on climate and environment is too roundabout,” Ansba said. “I don’t need that kind of thing, and I look down on it. As long as there are enough strong enough corpses, piled up with thick enough armor, everything will be crushed.”

“We can open our minds…open our helmets—think flexibly, change our thinking occasionally, and accept new ideas,” Samael tried to persuade his stubborn ally, reaching for the roasted bean crisps.

“I don’t need to change my mindset,” the stag frog helmet replied stubbornly, holding a handful of green berries. “If everything keeps changing, and a 12-pack of instant coffee that costs five yuan becomes an 8-pack that costs ten yuan the next day, then what can we trust?”

“But I’m not a shady businessman selling instant coffee… never mind, that’s not important.” Samael gave up trying to persuade him. “Anyway, I hope to get my hands on Rahador’s fog-generating behemoth—at least scan it first. That thing, and the information about it, is very important to me.”

Lysander stared in astonishment at the two tall figures in front of him, talking about things he couldn't understand, while throwing random enchanted materials into the demonic fire to warm himself up, feeling dizzy and lightheaded.

“Wait a minute, I need to figure out this friend’s situation first.” Samael turned to look at Lysander, who was standing there dumbfounded.

“You should have killed him instead of befriending him,” Ansba complained. “My psionic alarms and amplifiers were automatically activated—living people annoy me.”

“Alright, alright, I’ll take him somewhere you can’t see him and settle him down. Wait for me a moment—I’ll be right back.” Samael extended his cold, gauntlet and grasped Lysander’s shoulder. “My friend, would you mind sitting in my grave for a while?”

"Please...please wait a moment, you two are...uncles?" Lysander finally realized.

He held the numbing pill in his hand, unsure whether he should put it in his mouth.

The two tall knights in front of them had just been talking about "enough corpses," "living people are annoying," and "would you like to sit in my tomb?"—conversations that almost subverted normal people's concepts, yet they said them out naturally, as if they were the most reasonable things in the world.

The nonchalant, matter-of-fact attitude with which they recounted these events was chilling.

Faced with the inexplicable question, "Are you undead?", the two ghost knights exchanged a glance.

“Uh… guess?” Samael hesitated. “After all, I’m not entirely sure.”

“I don’t know, and I don’t care,” Ansba said. “I’m here to work, not to answer stupid questions—you won’t be affected by living people, so get this living person out of my sight.”

"Necromancers have intelligence? They can communicate normally? In other words, you two are the ghost knights from the Age of Gods recorded in the literature? There's nothing under your armor?" Lysander was pleasantly surprised. Although the current situation was a bit awkward, as a qualified Lunos scholar, satisfying his curiosity had become one of his most basic physiological needs.

"Is your aversion to living people physiological? What did the knight mean when he mentioned that he wouldn't be affected by living people?" His professional habit kicked in again, and he subconsciously pulled out a small notebook and charcoal pencil from his pocket, wanting to write down these important discoveries.

Deep within the soul resides a spirit capable of communication! An ancient ghostly knight! Although I am not a scholar specializing in necromancy and history, such crucial information is undoubtedly a major breakthrough on my path of exploration!
“We’re not, we didn’t,” Samael waved his hands repeatedly. “You know nothing! I know nothing either—I need to investigate if there’s anything that can erase memories…”

“Get this living person away, it’s so annoying,” Ansba said. “If you don’t take it away, I’ll crush it—if this weren’t your territory, I would have already split it in half vertically.”

He extended his massive gauntlet, and molten bronze surged from his palm, forming a massive, tombstone-thick, flame-shaped greatsword, which he then brought down on Lysander with a thunderous roar.

The instant the shadow of the flame-shaped greatsword crashed down, a bronze gauntlet gripped Lysander's shoulder and yanked him backward.

The flame-shaped greatsword slammed down just centimeters in front of Lysander's nose, embedding itself deep into the hard ground where he had been standing, like a shovel. A gust of wind swept across Lysander's face, stinging it.

“Alright, come with me quickly—please sit in my tomb for a while, I’ll go ask about your situation later, stranger.” Samael grabbed Lysander and shoved him into the arms of the sword-and-shield corpse knight beside him. “Logically speaking, it’s very strange for a living person to appear deep within the Heart of the Corpse. I should think about it first, but I’ve been really busy lately, with a lot of things to do. I might not be able to take care of you for a while, please understand, my friend.”

"Oh...please forgive me!" Lysander finally came to his senses. "What were you two talking about just now—breaking through the fog?"

He pointed to the blazing fire in front of him.

“I’ve heard other meteorologists say that the climate of the Skeleton Heart Plains is very special and cannot be changed by conventional means,” Lysander said. “An adventurer’s guild outpost once tried to burn large areas of the plains to drive away the undead, but the Skeleton Heart Plains is very humid, the rusted copper trees are hard to burn, and burning cannot change the climate for long; it will only last for a few hours before returning to normal.”

“Are you…are you a scholar?” Samael asked cautiously.

“Let me formally introduce myself. I am Lysander Zeno, a junior degree holder from the Kirard Academy of Magic. I studied Potions, Runic Arts, Magic Ecology, and Racial Culture at Lunos Academy. After being promoted to [Lunos Moonlight Master], I focused on Magic Engineering. My certifications include the [Silver Star] Advanced Mage qualification, the [Potion Master's Association Certification] qualification, and the [Lunos Moonlight Master] qualification.” Lysander coughed.

“Of course, anyone with a tongue can claim to be a Lunos scholar, but not many can actually produce credentials—this is mine.” He wiped his face, roughly rubbed his dirty hands on his clothes, and pulled out two small leather notebooks and two small medals from his pocket, handing them to Samael.

Samael reached out and took the small booklet. The gold-embossed leather booklet was supported by silver foil, and the words inside were written in gold ink: "This certificate is issued by the Potion Masters Association, indicating that the holder has passed the Potion Masters Association's unified examination for advanced potion masters, and is granted the professional qualification of advanced potion master and membership qualification of Lysander Lawrence Zeno."

Next to the writing was a picture of runes appearing, and the person in the picture looked exactly like Lysander in front of him.

This was the qualification certificate that Ruby, the low-level potion master in the adventurer's party, had always dreamed of obtaining... She even cried because she failed the exam. Samael stared at the certificate. The bright wax seal and anti-counterfeiting code on the certificate gleamed with a faint blue light.

The other certificate is the degree certificate of [Lunos Moonlight Master], and the two medals are a silver diamond medal for the [Silver Star] mage qualification and... half a dried-up chunk of mint hard candy stuck to the candy wrapper.

“Oh, sorry, that’s not a medal, it’s my energy candy… the leftovers from my trek through the Heartless Plains these past few days.” Lysander awkwardly snatched back the half-candy. “It’s a magic-replenishing [Mage Candy], made from the enchanted plant [Saw Mint]—I used a lot of skill-based magic along the way to survive.”

Samael nodded, indicating that his identity had been confirmed, and returned the certificate and medal to Lysander.

"I once published 'A Three-Tier Dynamic Architecture Based on Cavendish Runes,' which appeared on page 32 of the academic journal *Moth Lantern*. I was also the third author of 'Purification of the Active Ingredients and Synthesis of Secondary Products from the Lasrak Flat-edged Mushroom's cover story in last year's third issue of *Potion Futures*, and I was nominated for the [Florence New Leaf Medal] once." Lysander coughed, took his certificate and medal, and stuffed them back into his pocket.

He placed his right hand on his left chest and bowed slightly in a refined manner, saying, "It is an honor to meet the two Lords of the Dead in the realm of the dead."

The two knights exchanged a glance.

"It reminds me of unpleasant memories from my graduate school days." Ansba shook the huge frog-beak helmet irritably. "I hate living people, living people are annoying. Take it away, I don't want to see living people."

"You used to be a graduate student?" Samael asked instinctively. "Then you... are my senior."

“I didn’t finish my master’s degree. I dropped out after a year. My advisor was always lying and cheating. A senior student jumped off a plane, a senior student was slept with, and a junior student who hadn’t even started school ran away. I was the only one left. I beat up my advisor, paid him 3,000 yuan in compensation, and dropped out too,” Anshiba said. “After dropping out, my family scolded me so much that I got lost. I wandered around and ended up in an unfamiliar flower and bird market. I found a little bird with a half-crippled wing. To support the bird, I went to work. I worked there for two years and then died—due to hereditary blood pressure.”

He snorted heavily, turned around, and with a thud, sat down in the pale flames, letting the warmth of the flames and the smell of food fill his hollow and cold armored body.

Samael remained silent for a moment, unsure of what to say, before finally turning to Lysander and changing the subject.

“We are… trying to make snow fall on the heart of the skeleton,” Samael said. “Perhaps a scholar like you has any ideas? We can cooperate—tell me what you need, and we can exchange anything we can provide on a fair basis.”

“My colleagues in meteorology designed a snow-generating rune that blows near-freezing dust into the clouds and cools them down…” Lysander hesitated. “But it requires a sufficiently high-quality enchanted circuit. My runestones are too small to drive a magic array of that level.” “We can create a circuit made of enchanted metal—provided you provide the psionic rune circuit for snow generation,” Samael said. “Whatever you need, we can make a deal.”

“I…I need to find something important in the Plains of the Bones.” Despite the fear filling his heart, Lysander still managed to stand. “I need a warm and safe place to live, human food, materials to replenish my potions and magical catalysts, and…and shelter.”

“Protection?” Samael asked.

“The Alliance is hunting me down; they have eyes and ears in every region of the civilized world. I can’t go back until I get evidence,” Lysander replied. “And in this wilderness, monsters lurk in the shadows of the trees, and the undead roam the forests. I need protection, from whichever faction it may be.”

“You can stay in my territory—if you don’t mind living with the demons,” Samael said. “The undead are extensions of our will, tools for carrying out our respective tasks. Don’t worry about the undead—at least not the bell-helmeted undead in my territory.”

“I don’t mind demons—I’m just more worried that they might mind me.” Lysander glanced at Ansba in the distance and Samael in front of him. “Are you both necromancer lords?”

“That title sounds a bit exaggerated… but to some extent, it is.” Samael nodded.

“You are willing to communicate with me normally… You have no hostility towards the living?” Lysander probed. “Legend has it that every undead is awakened by the cruel will of the gods, wandering eternally in the dust, slaughtering the living with hatred.”

“But I was not awakened by the will of the gods,” Samael said, spreading his hands. “I was awakened by the prayers of the living, and upon awakening, I was immediately infected by a fervent and simple passion for life—I am fortunate to be accepted as a member of the living world.”

"My friends, even knowing my identity as a necromancer, still treat me with sincerity. My lover, even facing my empty body, still showers me with passionate love."

“I will not indiscriminately kill or injure living people. If a living person shows me kindness, I will repay them with kindness. If a living person injures me with malice, I will kill them with malice.”

Lysander paused, looking at Samael.

In the cold, hollow gaps of the dark armor, the other party's frank and sincere words still echoed.

“I…I have never seen a necromancer like this before…” he hesitated, “but, in any case, there are just too many things I have never seen before.”

He cautiously extended his palm to Samael.

“I hope you’re not lying,” Lysander said in a low voice.

“Words are pale and powerless; only actions have the power to speak.” Samael placed his hand on his breastplate and nodded slightly in acknowledgment. “You will see for yourself, my friend—in fact, you are not my only human friend in this world.”

“And I hope you’re not lying, Lysander, my friend,” he said. “Beings like us are virtually impossible to kill.”

"Don't worry, I'm not that kind of person," Lysander said.

The two slowly shook hands. Lysander shuddered slightly, startled by the chill emanating from the bronze gauntlets.

“Oh, sorry, I should have wrapped some strips of cloth around my palms beforehand to insulate against the cold—like I did when I shook hands with my human adventurer friend earlier.” Samael snapped out of his reverie.

“I will provide runes that can induce snowfall, as well as a catalyst… However, in addition to the runes, as a five-phase, two-entry, single-output magic array, some materials are also needed.” Lysander gazed at the flames before him, “A large amount of ash, dust, and metals with good thermal conductivity…”

"A five-phase, two-entry, single-exit magic array?" Samael repeated.

“Five catalysts, two material input ports, and one product output port,” Lysander explained.

He pulled out his small notebook from his pocket and hastily sketched a circular rune pattern with a charcoal pencil. Within the circular rune were five key points, with a material input rune opening extending from each of the left and right sides. Above the rune was a large output port.

Lysander tore off a page from his hand and handed it to Samael.

Samael glanced at it briefly, then extended his gauntlet and tapped the massive bronze shoulder armor in the flames beside him with his knuckles.

"What?" Ansba plopped down in the fire, his back to them, and the stag-horned frog helmet moved with difficulty. "My helmet and breastplate are welded together, I can't turn it. Just say what you have to say."

“Can you lend a hand? This magic circle circuit requires a lot of Nether Bronze to be shaped. Two Ghost Knights working on it at the same time can speed things up a lot,” Samael said.

Ansba sullenly climbed out of the fire, brought his enormous helmet close, and examined the magic runes on the piece of paper.

He extended his broad gauntlet, picked up the massive, tombstone-like flame-shaped greatsword beside him, and nodded.

"Ready?" Samael put some distance between himself and Ansbala, drew the Dark Bronze Knight Sword from the chain at his waist, gripped the hilt with both hands, blade down, and shouted, "Three, two, one..."

The two simultaneously plunged their swords into the ground, and semi-molten black copper flowed from their palms, running and crawling along the hilts, guards, and blades of the black copper swords, like the roots of a rusty copper tree, or like a slithering serpentine undead, rapidly crawling across the ground between them.

The scorching, semi-molten black copper slowly drew hard, cold rune lines, forming a massive metal magic circle.

"What an amazing casting speed... It can be stored, summoned, and quickly shaped. Is this some kind of enchanted metal?" Lysander looked up at the two knights' engineering masterpiece halfway through searching for the catalyst.

“Our original purpose may have been to create a greater world.” Samael smiled as he pulled his knight’s sword from the ground. “I continued this mission. Other knights besides me may have been interrupted, their goals changed, but their bodies still retain the ability to create great miracles.”

“I believe I can persuade them to change their mission objectives.” He reached out and patted Ansba’s shoulder armor beside him, making a clattering sound. “At least give it a try.”

“You’re as annoying as a living person—especially after you see a living person.” Ansba slowly shook his massive, battering ram-like shoulder armor, shoving aside Samael’s gauntlets. “The dead should look like the dead, otherwise, wouldn’t everything be in chaos?”

“Uh… I’d better not interfere in your affairs, you two monarchs.” Lysander hesitated, then placed the five catalysts in their corresponding positions: a blue feather, a pale blue, cold tuber, a twisted, dried monster muscle, a small, balloon-like sac, and a wrinkled gland. “Catalyst filling complete. Next, we need to fill it with a large amount of ash and a piece of metal with good thermal conductivity…”

“We only have Nether Copper.” Samael looked at the magic circle in front of him. “My demon friends are currently using cave dwellers to smelt copper from the rusty copper tree, but the workshop and smelting furnace are not yet completed.”

"Ghost copper?"

“Nether Bronze, the copper of the dead, this cold, enchanted metal forms our bodies.” Samael pointed to himself, then to the magic circuit circuit made of Nether Bronze in front of him.

“Perhaps it might work…” Lysander looked left and right. “I’m not sure, but it’s worth a try.”

Samael strode slowly forward, raised his hand, and inserted the Nether Bronze Knight Sword in the center of the magic circle input port on the left.

Thump! Thump! Thump! Ansba pounded his breastplate, while the barrel-helmeted skeleton warriors, unfazed by the intense heat, scooped up clumps of ashes from the nearby flames and piled them into the input port on the right side of the Nether Bronze Snowfall Magic Circle.

“In addition, the magic circle needs to be powered…” Lysander looked at the two knights in front of him and subconsciously stepped back. “Don’t look at me! I can’t support the energy of this level of magic circle! Powering this level of magic circle requires high-energy fuel rich in magic, such as canned black oil, magical beast oil, or refined enchanted charcoal…”

“The supply of enchanted charcoal is still quite sufficient,” Samael waved his hand. The Corpse Knights carried stacks of enchanted charcoal from the fuel shed behind them and piled them in the center of the magic circle.

“The magic circle can be activated by igniting it or striking it with a hammer,” Lysander said.

Ansba slowly stepped forward, raised his huge bronze fist, and slammed it into the center of the magic circle with a thunderous punch!

At the moment of impact, the magic circle emitted a dazzling halo, and a chilling current shot into the sky! Accompanied by the cold air, the ashes, gleaming with a dark blue light, shot straight into the sky like an angry dragon!
(End of this chapter)