The Skeleton Soldier Failed to Defend the Dungeon-Chapter 57. The Three Walls (2)

The gate officer I had seen earlier approached us and asked, "Do you require guidance?"

He didn’t seem to be thrilled about us inspecting the castle walls.

I decided to ask, "Where is the library?"

The question had slipped out because I was thinking of Rubia.

The officer gave me a puzzled look. "The library, sir?"

"Yes."

It must have been unusual for a tournament participant to inquire about a library. I wondered what he might say if I asked to actually enter.

The officer hesitated, clearly uncertain, and eventually summoned an elderly man.

The old man looked at me and said, "I heard you asked about the library..."

"Am I allowed to enter?"

Rubia had spent much of her time in the library. I knew the request would likely be denied, but it didn’t hurt to ask.

"You would need the lord’s permission for that. However, if there’s a specific book you’re looking for, we can lend it to you."

So entry wasn’t allowed. I recalled the name of the book Rubia had mentioned.

"Does The Genius Archmage Trapped Between Time happen to be here?"

"Ah, I assume that’s a novel. Let me see if I can find it."

An hour later, the old man delivered the book to my room. Its cover featured a red-scaled dragon embroidered alongside a shattered hourglass.

"Here it is."

"The cover looks impressive. Are you sure it’s alright to lend this?"

"There’s no one left to read it anyway. Since she disappeared, the library has only gathered dust. It’s a miracle nothing has burned."

"She?"

The old man hurriedly redirected the conversation. "Ah, forgive me, sir."

She, huh?

The librarian was obviously referring to Rubia, and his expression briefly turned somber. He must have liked her too. I recalled what Rubia had told me.

After my father passed, the people in the castle cried and told me I couldn’t stay here anymore...

This man was likely among those people. His demeanor felt strangely familiar, even though we had just met.

The librarian coughed softly, perhaps trying to suppress his feelings. "Ahem. Please call me when you’re done with the book."

With that, he left, his footsteps tinged with guilt. The librarian and Rubia might have been quite close, and perhaps they shared conversations about books.

I glanced at the elderly librarian’s frayed robes before opening the embroidered book. Its title and author came into view.

The Genius Archmage Trapped Between Time

By: Kevin Ashton

Clink.

"Kevin... Ashton?"

So, that man wrote this book?

When Rubia had told me about the book, I hadn’t asked about the author. I had merely remembered the title and decided to find it.

Is this just a coincidence?

I found myself suddenly tense. I ran my fingers over the cover a few times before carefully flipping through the pages, hoping for a clue about my time loop.

“It was my thirty-second May 12th.

I wanted to understand—who stops time, makes it flow again, and causes it to repeat?

Does time truly exist?”

However, I didn't resonate with the content, and it was hard to grasp.

“If time and space exist only within my perception, am I the only one with a mind? Is it a vast illusion constructed by me?”

Time and space exist only within perception? The mind exists only within oneself?

Clink.

I chuckled.

Wrong.

The fact that I was reading the book proved that other minds existed.

With that thought, I turned the page.

“The countless creations that believe themselves to possess minds—whose perception created them?”

Hmm, are all mages this self-centered?

The writing felt more like a personal essay recounting actual experiences rather than a novel.

Did I get my hopes up for nothing?

The novel’s protagonist was a man trapped in time. When I confided in Rubia about my situation, she mentioned this book, saying she had heard a similar story. At the time, she had dismissed it as mere fiction.

However, I must have secretly harbored expectations that the book might offer a solution or at least a hint. I thought back to the days I had spent contemplating Rubia and the future.

Did she truly vanish?

Thud.

I closed the book after turning the final page.

Ding!

[You have encountered Kevin Ashton’s first hidden piece while your Assimilation is below 90%.]

[Wisdom has increased by 10!]

[You have begun to faintly perceive the concept of the "Self-Sample Hypothesis."]

[Checking racial values: Skeleton.]

[You have acquired the following skill: Insight (E-).]

"Ten... and Insight?"

As soon as the notification appeared, a chilling sensation swept over me from head to toe. It felt as though the well of my mind had grown slightly deeper and wider. The mental fog that had been stifling me began to lift little by little.

One question arose immediately.

"Who exactly is Kevin Ashton?"

What kind of person could write a book that increased Wisdom just by reading it? And more importantly... Insight?

I opened the status window to check the skill details.

[Insight E- (Passive)]

— Possesses the insight level of an average human. For a Skeleton Soldier destined to be eternally trampled upon, this is an unattainable level of perception achieved through countless deaths.

Note: Do not overestimate the term "average human."

The slightly offensive wording left me speechless, but I had undeniably gained something valuable.

Still, who is Kevin Ashton? How could a mage create a skill like Insight just from a book? Is such a feat common among mages?

Clink.

As questions multiplied in my mind, I felt a shiver run through me. Kevin Ashton must have been an extraordinary mage. Even so, if someone like him couldn’t resolve the phenomenon of repeated time, I had little hope of uncovering its cause.

Fear gripped me for a moment. Feeling as though I were escaping, I returned the book to the librarian and retreated to my room.

The next day, after a night’s rest, I entered the tournament grounds. The arena was about 30 meters in diameter, surrounded by packed stands. The venue was located in the heart of the castle.

"Spacious," I remarked.

"It seems to have been used as a training ground. It has plenty of space," Rena observed.

The arena was noisy and grew increasingly heated. freewёbnoνel.com

I said, "It’s lively."

"Nothing beats watching someone’s head fly off from the safety of the stands to cure boredom. It’s truly exhilarating."

"Is that how you feel too?"

"I prefer to be the one doing the cutting."

The announcer stepped onto the stage and declared, "Now, the draw will begin! Designated participants, please come forward and pick a number!"

The participants approached and drew slips of paper. My number was 6. An official recorded the numbers, and then the participants returned to their seats.

"Now, the lord will enter!"

A man with a disheveled appearance stepped onto the elevated dais. He had thin hair, a gaunt frame with a protruding belly, and he stood at a medium height with a sinister glint in his eyes. His face appeared to be marred by a life of corruption.

That must be him.

My hand tightened around the hilt of my sword.

That man was the lord who had orchestrated Rubia’s repeated deaths. He was about thirty meters away. I wondered if I could leap onto the dais and strike him down.

Rubia’s revenge... no, my revenge. Should I do it?

"Eugh, look at that rat-like glare. What’s with that worm-like mark on his neck?" Rena muttered under her breath.

I suppressed my emotions and fought the urge to draw my sword.

Not here. Not now. Killing him now would only result in my death.

That would be pathetic.

Hyena-like men secured the area around the lord. They were his guards.

"Overcompensating with security, huh? It’s always the filthy ones who overdo it," Rena grumbled beside me.

Her snarky remark felt oddly soothing.

I let go of the sword’s hilt but couldn’t tear my gaze from the lord. He reached into a box and drew two slips of paper. A sly grin spread across his face as he handed them to the announcer.

The announcer bowed obsequiously, then read the names aloud to the participants and the audience.

"Number 6, the Jinney family’s Zagan Seere! Number 17, the Brass Ring Cultist, Isaac Jakot!"

Rena nudged me with her elbow. "You’re up first. Go on."

"Ah..."

Zagan Seere was a name I had hastily made up for the tournament. I had combined the names of two Demon Kings destined to descend upon the human realm in the future.

The two Demon Kings were Berserk Hydrogen, Zagan, a Griffin-winged demon who crushed humans with molten iron hooves, and the Collapser, Seere, who froze humans with a mere glance and warped space to crush entities. Everything was based on stories I had heard, not personal experience. The information available to me was limited to what necromancers and battlefield rumors provided.

Regardless, I had used their names.

"Zagan Seere!"

I stepped forward. Though I feigned indifference, I was nervous.

Why do I have to go first?

If I could observe other matches, I’d have an idea of the participants’ skill levels. Unfortunately, I was up first.

What kind of opponents await me in the tournament?

I thought back to the blue-armored knight who had effortlessly sliced me apart. Though I didn’t expect anything of that level, I wondered if I could handle what was coming.

I glanced at Rena, and she smiled brightly. "I bet everything to make it worthwhile!"

"..."

Last night, while I was struggling over Kevin Ashton’s book, she had apparently gone off to gamble.

"Not even a bit nervous, huh?" I commented.

Rena showed no signs of concern. If my helmet flew off and my identity was exposed, her life would be in danger too. It couldn’t be helped. If I died, I’d consider it repayment for Rena. After that, I’d be free of any debt.

That thought felt oddly liberating.

Thud, thud.

I rested my bastard sword on my shoulder and walked to the arena.

The announcer’s voice boomed, "Representing the Jinney family, Zagan Seere! A newcomer making his tournament debut! What skills does this unknown knight possess?"

The crowd erupted in cheers and jeers.

"Yeah!"

"Never seen him before!"

"Kill or be killed!"

"Boooo! He looks weak!"

How noisy.

"And on the opposing side, Isaac Jakot of the Brass Ring Cult!"

Boom! Boom!

A giant emerged from the other side, and each step he took made the ground shake. He was twice my size and carried a massive hammer that looked more suited for demolishing structures than smashing people.

"Isaac the Demolisher!"

"Crush him flat!"

Shrill cheers echoed. "Aaaaaaah!"

"Isaac! If you lose, no cuddles tonight!"

So this is what tournaments are like. Chaotic.

Isaac waved his massive hand at the crowd, basking in their cheers.

Thud!

He stomped the ground in front of me.

What is that? A display of his weight?

The announcer explained the rules. "Victory is declared by forcing a surrender or disarming your opponent! If someone surrenders, all attacks must cease immediately! Failure to comply will result in disqualification! Now, let the match begin!"

Boom, boom, boom!

The drums thundered.