The Skeleton Soldier Failed to Defend the Dungeon-Chapter 302: Unearth (22)

As we made our way toward Grassmere, I set Chandler ahead of me. It’d been a long time since I’d traveled with anyone. Ever since Isaac had gone into the inventory, I’d grown used to walking alone. Meanwhile, Chandler was extremely wary of me, obviously thinking this was our first meeting.

For me, it was the opposite. I knew him all too well. His skill, his temperament, even the way he would die. Having him beside me felt strangely familiar, almost comforting. I felt less strain than when I walked the road alone. However, that wasn’t the only reason I traveled with him.

"Did you train as a warrior, then? Some kind of wandering discipline?"

He had just returned from the East. I had to know if he’d been to the so-called replica island Isaac had mentioned or the true land of death.

"Yes." Chandler nodded eagerly, clearly relieved that I had finally taken the initiative to speak. "I went to the East."

Unlike his guarded manner with other things, he opened up about this without hesitation.

"What kind of place is it?"

"It is a land where no proper nation has been formed. Bandit clans run rampant, and instead of central armies, tribal warriors rise up to suppress them."

I gestured toward his robe. "And warriors dress like that?"

He paused, adjusting his gi, as though self-conscious. "Does it look strange?"

"No. It suits you well enough."

There was no point in criticizing. Soon, when he inherited the lordship, he wouldn’t have the freedom to wear what he liked.

He blushed faintly, coughed into his hand. "Well, above all, when the sun sets, the Night Procession begins."

"The Night Procession...?"

"Yes. By day, spirits cling to shadows and hover near people. But at night, they temporarily gain bodies and devour the living."

That was the first I had heard of such a thing. I knew next to nothing of the East, but if I’d known this, I would have asked sooner.

"They have no dwellings or flesh of their own. You can’t eradicate them with any campaign. They appear without warning, and the only option is to cut them down one by one."

No wonder civilization there could never flourish.

"Every tribe, no matter how small, must rely on warriors to fight the spirits. It’s a constant struggle, but also the perfect ground for training."

"What about the land itself?"

"I walked it for three years. The coastline alone takes a hundred days to circle on foot. It’s vast, but it’s still an island, sealed on all sides by the sea."

An island, just as Isaac had said. A replica, a playground for the living.

"Are there many who make the journey?"

"Not at all. The sea routes are treacherous. No ship can cross the narrow paths hidden between waters. Few know them, and fewer dare. And even if you arrive, there’s little to be gained. No gold veins, no riches, only hardship. I went purely for discipline."

Still, I couldn’t ignore what he had said. If the spirits Chandler described truly granted Hero Points, then the East itself could serve as one colossal dungeon. It could even be the fastest path to purchasing Anti-World from the Hero Shop.

Besides, if Chandler had been carried there, the Merchant’s Guild had surely arranged his passage. With Nexmond’s five cards now in my hand, the same route’d be open to me.

Still, my thoughts returned to the inventory. Isaac remained within, silent. For a decision this large, I wanted his counsel. After all, he hadn’t just seen the replica island, but the true mainland beyond. Yet with Rubia’s scenario still unfinished, I hesitated.

The East could wait. For now, I walked on toward Grassmere.

***

Grassmere, the City of Weapons. Its towering gray walls came into view, with twin gates spaced fifty meters apart. The walls were patrolled with mechanical precision. Towering siege ballistae stood ready, masterpieces of engineering meant for defense.

Unlike before, when I wordlessly passed them, I considered taking a closer look. With Engineering Lv. 3, it wouldn’t be hard to dissect them. Of course, in the face of distant fireballs hurled by mages or ghosts slipping inside, such devices were nothing more than kindling. It made me sick sometimes, how the world was full of futility.

Fifty meters. The gates loomed ever closer. The first time I came here, I slipped past under Masquerade. The second time, through invisibility. Now, I walked openly, with Chandler hovering awkwardly at my side.

I recognized a figure by the gate. Twenty meters. I kept my pace, unbroken. The guard hefted his spear and charged toward me. Feet pounding the ground, his massive frame moved with the grace of a butterfly. His arms were as thick as a grown man’s waist, making his weapon seem absurdly small.

The gatekeeper.

His name escaped me, but I recalled one thing: he always stood alone at the gate.

"I should’ve gone first...!" Chandler muttered nervously behind me.

The man wasn’t the sort to attack without cause, but Chandler barely got the words out when the gatekeeper landed lightly.

Thud!

Planting the butt of his spear against the ground, he stood straight and bellowed, "Outer Gatekeeper Kyle, at your service! I shall escort you inside."

Had the lord given him instructions?

"Ahem!" Chandler cleared his throat loudly, stepping forward. "Kyle, you weren’t like this before. You don’t need to act like a soldier greeting his commander. I’m not the lord yet, after all. You’re overdoing it..."

The ogre-like gatekeeper finally glanced his way. "Oh! As expected, Young Master. You’ve returned, just as we were told! Welcome back. Come inside."

"What...?"

Chandler moved to pass, but Kyle casually blocked his way with a hand. "Ah-ah, as glad as I am, you still need to show identification. Rules are rules."

The contrast was stark. Kyle was fervent with me, but dismissive of Chandler.

"But I... it’s been three years since I..."

"He’s with me."

"Authorized!" Kyle barked immediately, as if that settled it.

Whatever orders the lord had given him, they were extreme.

I glanced at Chandler. "Let’s go."

"Wh-what is happening right now...?"

"They’re letting us through. Walk."

The gates groaned open, guards flanking us in perfect formation. Their discipline had sharpened since my last visit. No doubt the lord’s renewed vigor after the curse had been lifted.

Clank!

I could hear the hammers of the blacksmiths from the city. "From here, I’ll go alone. I know the way."

"Is that really okay?"

"Of course."

It was a path I’ve walked countless times.

"You truly are..." Kyle trailed off, staring at me with something between awe and disbelief, then turned on his heel.

Chandler, bewildered, demanded, "Kyle! Who is this man that you..."

"Eh? You don’t know? Then ask the lord. A gatekeeper must return to his post."

Kyle shrugged his boulder-sized shoulders and marched back.

"..."

"Let’s go. I have business with the lord."

"B-but..."

I walked on, forcing Chandler to scurry after me like a frightened ghost.

"Huff... Puff..." He struggled to keep up, dripping sweat.

Annoyed, I tapped his leg with the spear shaft I’d picked up earlier. "Your balance is off when you run."

"Huff... Puff..."

"You’ll need your bones realigned later."

"My... bones?"

"Later."

Skeletal Morphing. For now, I could only apply it to myself. Perhaps if I trained more, Chandler could serve as useful practice.

Before the thought could settle, the lord strode forward and screamed, "Messenger of god!"

Masquerade.

[Resemblance: 45%]

"Messenger who granted us grace! It is an honor beyond words to have you return to my humble hall."

"Good to see you."

Chandler, panting beside me, blinked rapidly, staring at the lord in shock. "Father... I’m here too."

The lord turned, equally surprised. "You’ve arrived safely, as planned. And you entered together with this man? I trust you caused no offense?"

"We... just happened to meet..."

"Ahem. Regardless, pay your respects. This is the one who freed our house from its curse."

At last, realization dawned on Chandler’s face. He swallowed hard. "So... the one from your letters..."

"Yes. Thanks to him, you live a new life."

By imperial etiquette, keeping one’s helmet on during introductions was considered disrespectful.

Clack.

I lifted it away.

Chandler’s eyes widened, his pupils trembling violently as he saw my ten-minute face. "If only you’d told me beforehand...!"

I shrugged, like Kyle before me. "You didn’t tell me anything either."

"..."

Even if he had poured out his entire story, I would’ve stayed silent. Explanations were tedious. Isaac had endured that burden for me more times than I cared to count.

The lord inclined his head. "Come. Let us speak in my office."

"Very well."

"I’ll wait here," Chandler murmured.

"No. You’re coming too. Soon, you’ll be the lord yourself. Anything I know, you must also know."

The tone was firm, brooking no argument. Chandler hesitated, then nodded. Together, the three of us climbed to the highest chamber in the castle to the lord’s study, overlooking the training grounds below.

"I intend to formally abdicate within a month," the lord declared.

I shot Chandler a glance. "The next lord, then?"

The old man nodded. "Yes. We will hold a grand ceremony for the succession."

Chandler’s face betrayed shock. Clearly, he hadn’t been told of the ceremony.

"Father, I thought you detested empty rituals. You always said they were a waste of time and effort."

The lord chuckled softly. "And yet, this time, you must hear me out. Are you aware of the situation in Erast?"

"I am. A small but well-governed land. It was ruled ably by Count Ray, but I’ve heard of his passing."

"And his disgraceful brother now contests the succession against his noble daughter."

The lord’s eyes shifted to me. His next words soared past my expectations.

"At our own succession ceremony, I plan to enthrone Lady Rubia as the rightful lord of Erast."