Ghost Knight King's Dungeon Project

Chapter 87 [The Beast in the Forest, the Man in the Case]

[Strong joint suction is now enabled].

Accompanied by the clanging of metal and the sparks of dark blue bronze, Rahado slowly pressed his shoulder armor, rotated his arms, and leisurely stretched his newly recovered body.

“I don’t trust this guy,” Ansba said frankly, the stag frog helmet pointing directly at Rahado.

“Although I did hand over those armor pieces to you, I still maintain that we should not allow Rahador the ability to move freely.” A rumbling sound echoed from his breastplate. “He is very likely to defect again.”

“Sorry, you’re not in charge here now.” Rahado stretched, his armor whirring as he stood with his hands on his hips next to the white-clad Samael, pointing at Ansba.

Seven or eight serpentine corpse demons darted nimbly behind the monarch, wielding enormous two-handed scythes, confronting Ansba.

“I understand that, Ansba,” Samael replied. “But we need to draw on as many available forces as possible—we are of the same kind, and the ultimate goal is cooperation, to unify everything, to address common problems, not internal strife.”

“I don’t have any common problems,” Ansba said. “Besides, I also advise you not to look for any problems.”

"Life is about finding a grave where you can see the blue sky. Nobody cares about the truth. People always crave to be the most exalted part of the world, not to change it."

"If you keep asking questions and seeking things you shouldn't know, you'll make the sky murky."

“Perhaps,” Samael shrugged. “But I’m carrying something else on my shoulder armor.”

Ansba rose from beside his skeletal warhorse and stood before Samael, casting a broad shadow over him.

“Don’t think that changing into a white paint job will make you a savior, Samael,” he growled.

"No one here needs a savior. What I need is blue skies. And they—the living—need cemeteries."

"No one needs you to change the world, no one needs to know the truth. Passion only brings sorrow. My advice is, mind your own business."

Ansba stood straight, head slightly bowed, meeting the shadow in Samael's helmet.

Samael stood as straight as ever, showing no sign of retreat despite the broad, tall shadow of Ansba looming over his helmet.

“I’ve heard enough of that,” he replied. “I died young, before my spirit could be worn down. Everyone older than me likes to say I’m a busybody, even after I’m gone.”

Ansba gave a low hum.

"The day will come when we crush the bones of the heart. At that time, our alliance will end, and I will have a fair duel with you to decide who the true leader is and what direction we will take in the future. Don't forget that," Ansba said bluntly.

“Understood,” Samael said. “Let’s go. We’ll go find Sokofa to negotiate first, and then deal with Dekgon.”

“Very good,” Ansba replied in a deep voice, “although I would have preferred you to deal with Decogon first.”

Rahado circled the two men facing off, looking left and right, pondering with great interest.

The three ghost knights led their respective undead forces across the misty lake, heading eastward.

The main objective this time is to negotiate with Sokofa—judging from Sokofa's previous behavior, he probably has no interest in combat and may be able to resolve the issue through peaceful negotiations. Furthermore, the destination is relatively far away, and to ensure a rapid arrival, it's not advisable to bring too many combat units and war machines.

However, this time he specifically brought along Rahadol, who had previously dealt with Sokofa—even though such dealings probably displeased Sokofa. But if necessary, perhaps he could show goodwill to Sokofa by beating Rahadol up.

The implants controlling Rahador's behemoths have been removed, and Ansba's undead have been stationed around the Misty Lake for a long time. Most of the undead that Rahador himself stored in the catacombs were taken away by Ansba, and the remaining small amount was kept by Samael, who has now returned it to Rahador.

There were only forty Corpse Demons, including a group of snake-shaped Corpse Demons and a group of membrane-winged Corpse Demons.

The other two knights led a squad of seventy elite troops, including Corpse Crawlers, Corpse Hunters, Corpse Knights, Skeleton Warriors, Skeleton Warhorses, and so on.

After all, Ansba's units are generally heavily armored, with heavy bodies and slow movements, requiring additional strong mounts to speed up their movement.

Ansba had clearly not been idle during this time either, and had developed a new type of skeleton-forged undead, composed of two skeleton-forged warriors and a large amount of molten stone. Using the tough roots of the rusted copper tree, he wove together the semi-petrified, heavy skeletons, covering them with a wide, heavy suit of dark copper armor, forming a heavily armored rock-bone two-headed behemoth.

The two-headed giant wielded a heavy, dragon-tooth-shaped club of dark bronze in one hand and dragged a wrist-thick chain of dark bronze in the other. The two dark bronze barrel helmets on its two heads each covered half of its body, allowing it to alternate between wide-range chain sweeps and small-range hammer blows from the dragon-tooth club.

Rahado rode a carrion horse with a rotting bird's beak, dragging a lizard-like tail, and legs that resembled two velociraptor thighs and six clicking limbs. When it ran, it was incredibly fast, like a velociraptor.

Because Rahado's body was the lightest, his warhorse was also the fastest. Even though he would occasionally pull on the reins of the Nether Bronze Chain to stop and wait for the other two, he still led the way on the journey.

Ansba rode his massive, armored warhorse, its joints reinforced with necromancer and its hooves thick, but it was still the slowest of the three, moving like a tank advancing at a snail's pace.

Samael rode a horse-shaped undead cast from white iron, a new creation made by mixing different undead. The hooves and bones of the forged warhorse, combined with the tentacles and malleable flesh of the rotting demon—at least from the outline, it was a horse.

The horse's hooves, forged with skeletal claws, tore at the ground with relentless force. A small amount of ghost copper peeked out from beneath the cast white iron protective layer, dragging along a few writhing tentacles. At the front of the seemingly pristine white iron horse armor, grotesque sucker-like mouths encased in dark ghost copper protruded, resembling those of a rotting lamprey. Sharp, scimitar-like teeth protruded from the sucker-like mouths, forming petal-like shapes.

Amidst the rumbling of hooves and the squeaking of claws, they traversed the shrub-covered plain, leaving three messy rows of hoofprints among the withered vegetation.

The undead ran after him, hurrying to catch up with the monarch.

“Sometimes I wonder why you and Deckon always seem to hate each other,” Samael said from his bumpy undead mount. “Logically, you two look quite similar.”

Ansba paused in his grip on the bronze chain reins, and fell silent.

Samael gazed at him silently.

The long silence caused Rahado to slow down, deliberately lurching his mount behind, and begin to peer around cautiously, trying to figure out what this matter meant for Ansba.

“Hell is other people,” Ansba concluded. “The ego is an even deeper hell.”

He managed to utter these two sentences, then stopped talking again, as if these two sentences were enough to explain everything about him.

Samael shook his iron-white helmet and changed the subject: "When I raided Prange's knight's tomb, his workshop was blown up by Rahador." He glanced at Rahador on his mount beside him. "Prange has the ability to manufacture some kind of powerful explosive."

“Of course it was my doing—I detonated the explosives in his bronze hand cannon,” Rahado replied excitedly. “Boss Samael, you should remember that kind of hand-held percussion cannon that fired heavy bronze balls, powerful enough to smash the rusted bronze wooden frame of a catapult.”

"Do you know how that kind of explosive is made?" Samael asked.

“Uh… this…” Rahado hesitated awkwardly, “All I know is that the fiber paper made of reeds was placed underground, soaking in deteriorated humus and some plant materials from the swamp.”

"Was this technology developed by Pranger himself?" Samael asked.

“No, according to Prange’s own account, he obtained the manufacturing method through a deal with Sinziro.” Rahado shook his head in confusion.

Is this information important?

“After taking control of Prange, I went to study the ruins of his workshop,” Samael said. “Prang’s knight’s tomb was converted from a caveman’s tunnel, and it was dug deep and solid. Moreover, there were layers of wrought iron in the walls of the underground space of the workshop, so some rooms have not been completely destroyed.”

“In the underground space there, I found a remnant area where many humus roarers were being raised—they were consuming deteriorating humus, as well as root tubers dug out of the swamp and some kind of fungus. They were undergoing some special reactions in their bodies and finally secreting a brown liquid containing a large amount of nitrates.”

"These nitrated liquids are extremely flammable and explosive, and the explosive power is considerable. Dilute them, mix them with a small amount of necrotic acid, soak the reed paper in it, dry it, and then tear it into pieces. You will get something similar to nitrocellulose, which will ignite when it comes into contact with necrotic acid or an open flame."

“What is the Roaring Soil?” Ansba asked.

“A kind of creature, a living chemical reactor meticulously designed by the gods,” Samael said. “Before I set off, I asked Prange about his explosive formula and its source—he told me frankly, and the contents and manufacturing process were almost identical to Rahador’s description, so it seems he wasn’t lying—perhaps Prange wasn’t as fond of lying as Rahador.”

“Hey, what do you mean by lying through your teeth? I’m listening right here,” Rahado interjected.

“What I mean is, if the source of this formula is Xinziluo, it means that Xinziluo knows how to use the artificial creatures left by the gods, and perhaps he also has mastered a lot of technology related to the gods.” Samael pondered, “When facing Xinziluo in the future, we cannot be careless and it is best to follow my orders first.”

The three knights talked as they rode their mounts around the lake toward the border of Sokofa.

Before the hills and wastelands piled with dark gray gravel appeared before them, the sounds of clashing objects and excited roars echoed through the sky, growing ever closer as the mounts advanced:
"Come out, you otaku!" Decgon roared.

Bang! Bang! Bang! The loud noises of the pneumatic tendons, like gunshots, pierced the air again and again, mixed with the clattering and ear-piercing sound of chains colliding, accompanied by the clicking of the bronze limbs and the roar of the power wheels.

"Come out here, you coward!" Dirkgun roared. "Face me!"

Bang! Bang! Bang! Amidst the deafening roar of gunfire, the sound of bronze parts being smashed to the ground could be heard.

“How dare you steal from my territory…” Deckgun roared.

"I...I...I only took a little humus..." Sokofa stammered, screaming, "The wasteland...the wasteland only has burnt stones and gravel...no life, no humus..."

The three knights spurred their mounts and quickly reached the border. Standing atop a hill covered in dark gray gravel, they surveyed the wasteland below.

Clang! Clang! The ear-piercing sound of chains clashing together was incessant.

A burly figure wearing a gladiator helmet had thick, dark bronze chains hanging from his sheet metal muscle armor, cast like a cloak on his back and body, swaying back and forth.

The chain ends with sharp hooks and is laden with spoils: rotting monster heads and skulls, and scattered bone fragments, resembling the necklace of a barbarian warrior from a primitive tribe.

Decogon, leading seven or eight flesh-and-blood gladiators, stood before Sokofa's arthropod chariot. Roaring, they tore the chariot to pieces, crushing the skull-bone hermit crabs made of spirit bones and tossing them aside.

Deckon leaped into the air, and with a loud bang, bone nozzles extended from the gaps in his armor joints. The pneumatic tendons and the Ghost Knight's immense strength of the Nether Bronze fused together, spraying blood mist, and slammed into the arthropod chariot with the force of a jet of gas. The huge Nether Bronze claws smashed the thick skull on the chariot, which resembled a mammoth's skull, to pieces!
Dekgon filled his hollow body with fresh monster muscle!

Broken bone fragments fell like raindrops, scattering and crumbling in all directions. Below, the hermit crabs scurried about, their shattered parts exposed.

"No, no, no, no..." came the weak, mournful wail from behind the hill. "Please, please... I've already used up all that humus... please don't..."

Click, click, click... The scraping sound of the limbs echoed, and with a loud bang, dozens of huge, pillar-like bronze limbs suddenly sprang out from the ground, swaying slightly, protecting a scorched hill within.

“This is not something you can decide…” Degon stopped abruptly halfway through his sentence.

The rugged gladiator slowly turned his head, looking at the figures of the three knights on the other side.

“…Ansba.” Deckhon roared, raising his massive, thick bronze claws and casually bending a bronze limb in front of him before slapping it aside.

He turned around, his gladiator helmet facing the tallest figure, automatically ignoring the other two knights beside him. Even the platinum-colored Samael couldn't draw his attention away.

“Although being ignored like this is quite unpleasant,” Rahado said in a low voice, “on second thought, isn’t being ignored by the Decgons a great thing?”

Samael tilted his helmet slightly, looking at Dekgon in his field of vision, then slowly tilted it back.

Ansba gave a low, hoarse hum.

“Finally.” Decogon abandoned the hill where Lockkoff was, and with heavy steps, he led the gladiators toward the Three Knights amidst the clattering of his chains and cloak.

"Finally, I can confront your true form, you beast in the guise of civilization—you hypocritical coward who dares not reveal yourself."

Samael wanted to step forward and negotiate, but a huge bronze gauntlet blocked his way.

He raised his helmet and looked at Ansba's antler frog beak helmet.

Ansba remained silent, watching Dekgon's figure draw ever closer.

“I’ll do it,” he said sullenly. “This is…my business.”

(End of this chapter)