Ghost Knight King's Dungeon Project

Chapter 71 [The Snowy Day]

Tens of thousands of white ice shards fell from the dark sky, like the corpse of a gray-white behemoth slowly decomposing in eternal, cold death.

It was no longer snowing, but rather the frozen sky cracking open, pouring fragments into the world through the cracks, violently vomiting out endless, cold, and sharp ice shards.

The snowflakes were no longer independent individuals; they were kneaded, torn, and stuck together by the gale, forming a dense, horizontal torrent that swept across the world at an almost horizontal angle, instead of falling.

Under the dark, icy sky, there was nothing but drifting ice shards.

In the heart of the high, grassy plains where the frost howls, stands a towering Gothic-style building with a pointed roof. The Knight's Tomb resembles a small chapel dedicated to Death, its spires, eaves, doorways, and sculptures all covered in snow.

The sword-and-shield necromancers moved freely across the snow, their bronze shoulder armor and bell-shaped helmets draped in pure white snowflakes in the cold darkness. Such a frigid environment would render the living almost immobile, but it had virtually no effect on the undead.

Furthermore, the low temperature slowed down the decay of the corpses and greatly extended the lifespan of the undead.

The remaining Nether Copper Snowfall Array in the open space has ceased to function and is partially covered by snow.

The scanner is now enabled.

[Psychic circuit - composite product detected]

[Architecture Breakdown: Gas-Phase Driven (Precision Operation 4), Thermodynamic Control (Precision Operation 2), Medium Simulation (Precision Operation 5)]

[Already burned into the Basic Psionics - Circuit Template Library]

[Due to a lack of materials, it cannot be used at this time.]

Samael stood silently at the entrance to his knight's tomb, his hand resting on his bronze longsword. His gauntlets, shoulder armor, and helmet were covered with a layer of snow.

“It’s an amazing effect.” Lysander, wrapped in a blanket, shivered behind Samael, rubbing his cold hands and breathing on them.

“…That’s what I was going to say.” Samael looked at the heavy snowfall and asked, “Isn’t this the snowfall array you provided, Lysander, my friend? Why are you surprised by the snowfall effect?”

“Because I’ve seen mages who specialize in meteorology use this magic circle before—it should theoretically take about a day to start snowing, it doesn’t work that quickly,” Lysander said in a low voice.

"The temperature dropped too quickly. The snowfall array was activated during the day, and a blizzard started to fall tonight. Perhaps it's due to the high humidity in the core of the skeleton. The long-term overcast skies, once they encounter the low-temperature wind array that causes a sharp drop in temperature, the cold air mass and ash condensation nuclei quickly lead to snowfall in the clouds."

"Is that so?" Samael turned his head slightly, and a small pile of snow fell from the top of his helmet. "Is there anything different or special about the snowfall array we use compared to those of other mages?"

“The cooling medium at the input port,” Lysander said. “Normally, the cooling medium should be a metal with good thermal conductivity, such as copper, silver, or gold. But our magic circle uses enchanted metal… that stuff that looks like rusty copper.”

He gazed at Samael's bronze body.

“Ghost copper has a property that it actively absorbs heat from its surroundings to maintain its stable shape,” Samael said. “Perhaps it is this property that causes this.”

"The material input port 2 of the magic circle is used to record psionic functional attributes and simulate characteristics." Lysander held the charcoal pencil with his shivering hands and wrote something in his notebook.

"This might have some special effects. I should probably study the magic circle... Ah, no, I should focus on serious matters first. I can deal with this kind of curiosity later... Good heavens, it's really cold. I'd better not go out."

He coughed, temporarily putting his curiosity aside.

“In addition, the climate of the Skeleton Heart is quite unique. According to previous records, the Skeleton Heart Plains never normally experience snowfall in winter,” Lysander added.

"Hmm?" Samael looked at Lysander.

“The Heart of the Corpse is located in the central part of the continent, where winter temperatures do not frequently drop to freezing point—they are usually just slightly above freezing,” Lysander explained. “Moreover, the Heart of the Corpse is a low-lying plain where the large number of corpses rotting and fermenting generates warm air.”

"Moreover, the northern border of the Erdrik Empire is also crossed by a branch of the Windbreak Mountains, running straight out of the empire's border and connecting with Blackstone Fortress, which was carved out of the mountains by the dwarves. The cold air brought by the north wind is blocked on the windward side of the Windbreak Mountains, forming snow on the top of the Windbreak Mountains. From the Windbreak Mountains, the further south you go, the warmer the climate becomes."

“I see.” Samael recalled his knowledge of geography.

“Actually, there might be another reason…” Lysander hesitated for a moment.

"Please feel free to speak," Samael said.

“Regarding the climate of the Skeleton Heart Plains, scholars have a view that: some kind of divine relic that can affect the climate is buried in the Skeleton Heart Plains,” Lysander said in a low voice. “It is the divine relic that has locked up the weather, temperature and various natural environments of the Skeleton Heart Plains—the gods once imprisoned and sealed something here, fearing that drastic changes in temperature would cause the seal to fail.”

Samael slowly turned around and looked at Lysander.

"Of course, it's just an opinion without any evidence." Lysander waved his hand. "This opinion is unanimously considered by the academic community to be a hysterical thought caused by the bleak prospects of scholars studying folklore."

“I’m not sure, Lysander, my friend,” Samael said in a low voice. “I’ve seen a massive undead monster that can alter the weather and environment on a small scale—that’s why I’m trying to defeat it with more powerful weather control methods.”

He gazed through the snow toward the territory of Rahador—visibility was poor in the blizzard, but the fog had cleared. Lake Rahador appeared to be freezing, and the outline of the matchbox-like fortress on the island in its center was clearly visible.

“Perhaps all lost legends have another interpretation, even the old tale of a hero fighting a dragon,” Samael mused.

“Dragons are just an ancient legend. Nowadays, people are used to calling any powerful creature a dragon.” Lysander shrugged and pulled the blanket around him tighter.

“I hope so.” Samael nodded, gazing at the entrance to the insect-maze tunnel in front of him.

The undead built a small shed at the tunnel entrance using molten stone pillars and tall grass stalks to prevent snow from flooding the entrance or pouring into the insect maze.

Two figures stood up from the small shed; they were two skinny cave dwellers, resembling bean sprouts. One cave dweller carried two felt blankets on its head and a charcoal stove, while the other carried a plate of food and enchanted materials. They wobbled through ankle-deep snow and delivered the food to the entrance of the Knight's Tomb for the scholar Lysander to use temporarily.

“I’ve spoken to my demon friends, and I’m not sure yet if you can adapt to living in the underground psionic ecosystem for an extended period of time. Perhaps… you could live with me on the surface for a while first?” Samael turned his head.

Lysander, startled, raised his runestone gauntlets and nervously pointed at the caveman who had brought the blanket.

The caveman hummed and groaned, put down the felt and charcoal stove, and opened his mouth wide towards Lysander, sticky drool dripping from the corner of his mouth.

Lysander's palm runestone flickered, activating the cyan feather catalyst and creating a spherical wind pressure shield that slowly pushed the two cave dwellers away from him.

The cave dweller stared blankly for a moment, then reluctantly turned and left.

“That… that’s perfect. I… I’m not quite used to an environment where monsters roam around.” Lysander came to his senses, slowly breathed a sigh of relief, put down the runestone gauntlets he was using for casting, and muttered, “Especially cave dwellers… These monsters have some intelligence, but not much. They eat everything. Do you see that huge mouth that’s always open? It can’t close at all because they often swallow their food whole, sometimes up to half a person in one gulp.”

"The anatomy lab of the medical department at Lunos Academy has dissected more than 300 subspecies of cave dwellers and found more than 2,000 kinds of random things in their stomachs. In addition to plant residues and animal remains, there are human remains, rags, leather, broken glass, metal, stones, iron pots, piano keys, sails, gold coins... and a complete birdcage."

"Can cave dwellers really digest these things?" Samael asked.

“No, they often swallow things whole and then vomit up the indigestible parts,” Lysander gestured. “These vomits may contain valuable items, such as gold coins, or adventurers’ weapons and equipment.”

"The cave dwellers will pile up their undigested vomit in their junkyards. Therefore, adventurers often actively seek out cave dweller junkyards, hoping to find something valuable."

"In short, I'm not used to these dangerous magical beasts that eat everything and crawl around everywhere. It's already pretty good that I can live on the surface for now." Lysander waved his hand. "Besides, I'm worried that those demons might... ah, maybe it's better to keep some distance from each other for now."

“I had thought it would be warmer to live in the dungeon,” Samael said. “But since you’ve said so, let’s leave it at that for now. I’ll have my men build a separate living area for you, Mr. Lysander Zeno, later.”

"No need for you to trouble yourself, any simple room will do." Lysander shook his head, carrying the felt blanket and charcoal stove, and headed towards the temporary room arranged for him in the back.

"How is the situation?" Samael stood before the knight's tomb, using the rotten root ball of his bell-shaped helmet to speak to Ansba in the gray moss-covered wilderness to the north.

After a few seconds' delay, Ansba's response came through the bell-shaped helmet:
"The visibility is clear now, and there's no fog left." His deep voice rang out. "However, the drop in temperature and the snow have made the ground a bit slippery, which is affecting my cavalry charge. I need to add claws that can dig deep into the ground to my mount's hooves, as well as spikes like snow boots, otherwise it will slip."

“Once the snow has subsided a bit, launch the attack,” Samael said. “Contact me anytime.” “No problem,” Ansba replied.

"Have you finished the blueprints for that thing?" Samael asked. "It's a war machine made by my demon craftsman friend."

“We can produce one. Any more and the Necromancers won’t have enough command helmets,” Ansba replied. “I’d prefer to use frontal combat power.”

“It’s alright, I built two,” Samael said. “Three together will be enough.”

He hung up the call, remembering what Ansba had mentioned about the spikes on the snow boots.

That's a good idea. I was originally thinking of using sleds or ice skates, but on second thought, snow boots are also a good idea.

He raised his bronze boots, placed his gauntlets on them, and the semi-molten bronze flowed out, solidifying into spikes on the soles of the boots. These spikes could be driven firmly into the ground like spiked shoes, securing his body.

Spikes... He sat on his throne, elbows resting on the armrests, gauntlets supporting his helmet as he pondered, conceiving some interesting mechanical structures in his mind.

A moment later, Samael stood up, seemingly wanting to contact Ansba. But after a moment's hesitation, he strode across the snow toward the eastern border with Rahadol.

The moon and clouds were no longer visible in that nightmarish sky; the distant darkness overhead hung like a bottomless abyss, making one fearful of falling into the shadows of the sky.

The flying, hard ice shards were vomited out by the corpse of the universe and scattered emotionlessly across the Plain of Bones.

Sword and shield-wielding corpse knights thronged around their monarch, clanging and rattling as they marched forward in the cold void.

Samael stood on the border line, snowflakes covering his shoulder armor, calmly gazing at the chainmail-armored serpentine corpse demon before him.

"What do you want?" Rahador's voice came from the Collins helmet. "We can talk like civilized people, instead of solving problems with our fists like these barbarians from another world."

“Enchanted plant and animal materials,” Samael said.

“Sure!” Rahado said readily.

"Land and mineral veins".

“Sure!” Rahado answered readily again.

"Advanced necromancy resources".

"can!"

"The Mist-Making Giant Serpent".

"can!"

“Pulange”.

"can!"

“If you hesitated for even half a second, or tried to bargain, I would almost think you were really going to make peace,” Samael said. “But it’s obvious you’re stalling for time.”

"Let me finish, Samael." Rahado tried to come closer in a friendly manner, but was slapped away by the kite-shaped shield of the sword-and-shield corpse knight on the left.

"Perhaps my demeanor has misled you all along, but you should know that I am the closest being to the Necromancer Lord in the entire Plains of Skeleton Hearts." Rahador's voice chuckled warmly beneath the Collins-style owl helmet.

"I have the most allies, the most comprehensive network of relationships, and the most backup plans and trump cards."

“You might think that winning over a big, dumb guy like Ansba is something remarkable, but I have to tell you that Prang, Sokofa, and Decogun all have varying degrees of cooperation and alliance with me now.”

"In other words, four-sevenths of the Skeleton Plains are on my side."

"The only ones who refuse to cooperate with me are Ansba and Sinziro; they're either idiots or lunatics."

“I think you’re a smart man, Samael. You’re neither a fool nor a madman.”

"You know how you should choose, don't you?"

Rahadu's serpentine carrion demon chuckled as it slowly slithered along the border, leaving a trail of winding tracks in the snow.

"Will you fight two-sevenths against four-sevenths? Or join our alliance and become one of the five-sevenths, until the entire Heart of the Dead is forged into an unstoppable chariot of Nether Bronze—together we will conquer this world, enslave the living, and become the seven monarchs of the undead kingdom?"

Samael smiled.

“I don’t think the kind of relationship where you kick each other’s butts when you’re facing away can be called an alliance,” he replied calmly. “Besides, if you were absolutely certain you could defeat me and Ansba, you wouldn’t be running to the border to beg for mercy before the war even starts.”

“This is not a plea for mercy, Samael, it is persuasion, it is a lament that a clever man like you has fallen to the same level as fools and madmen,” said the chainmail-clad corpse demon of Rahador.

“You were just startled by the noise of the snowfall,” Samael quietly pointed out.

“I must admit, there’s a reason you can hang out with a stubborn idiot like Ansba,” the serpentine corpse demon said slowly. “You two are equally rude—so sharp-tongued, and you don’t even know how to be decent to others.”

“You have to behave yourself first before you expect others to behave like you,” Samael shrugged. “If you’re not willing to behave yourself, don’t expect others to do the same—why bother slashing with your tendrils during the first handshake?”

“Listen, Samael, you are now joining us…” the Corpse Demon was still saying something.

Suddenly, a flash of cold light appeared in the bronze before Samael's eyes.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

A series of metallic clanging sounds rang out! The harpoon spears that were thrust out at an angle were blocked by the kite-shaped shields of the surrounding zombie knights. The specially modified harpoon spearheads actually pierced through the shield surface and firmly embedded themselves in the shield. The barbs pulled the shield back sharply, dragging it into the bushes behind the chainmail zombie demon.

"Useless thing! I told you to wait until I baited out the shields of the sword-and-shield guards around him before firing!" the armored ghoul cursed. "You should have waited for my signal!"

“I can’t hear the conversation from this far away, how would I know? — And besides, I thought you’d succeeded after all that babbling!” Seven or eight helmeted corpse hunters covered in ice crystals stood up from the bushes. “My men are freezing!”

A flash of cold, metallic light appeared in front of the chainmail-armored corpse demon.

It screamed and instinctively retreated quickly, darting back more than ten meters. When it turned around, it saw two sword and shield knights simply raising their swords and striking their shields with the hilts in a threatening manner.

clang!clang!clang!
Three knights with shields, hammers, and spears slowly stepped forward, protecting Samael in the middle.

“To be honest, I should have known sooner,” Samael said, shrugging. “Maybe I was too optimistic, always expecting the best from everything.”

"Shall we begin?" Ansba's voice rang out from somewhere in the north, transmitted through the bell-shaped helmet on the Root Ball.

“Let’s begin,” Samael replied.

A tall shadow rose amidst the snow and dust.

Those were catapults with the skeleton of Nether Bronze Trees as their framework, pieced together from the tendons of the undead and Nether Bronze parts.

(End of this chapter)