The Skeleton Soldier Failed to Defend the Dungeon

Creak. Creeeak.

I loaded the crossbow with a bolt.

“Go ahead, k-kill me!” the man shouted, almost convulsing.

I stepped on his right wrist again.

Thwip!

I drove the crossbow bolt into his right palm.

Thunk!

The modified crossbow had excellent penetration power. The bolt pierced his hand and embedded itself more than halfway through the ground. I released bolts into both of his feet as well, pinning his limbs to the ground.

The pain of bolts tearing through flesh and bone was intense. The man foamed at the mouth, which choked him. The innkeeper struggled for a while, gasping. Pain was a simple, monotonous emotion, offering little enjoyment for me as an observer.

He tried to lift his head a little, but then it dropped to the floor.

Thud.

His struggles ceased. The room fell silent.

Ding!

[Experience increased by 149.]

I quietly looked down at the man, now an unsightly corpse. I had killed him, yet I did not feel any satisfaction. To put it plainly, this man wasn’t even in the inner circle of those who had killed Rubia. He was trash, but even among them, he was just a pawn to be used and discarded.

How futile.

After all my struggles, I only reached this point. Now, I could go no further. Since I lacked strength, I couldn’t storm inside the city walls. I also could not do so for the walls of Erast, where the lord who sent the hammer and crossbow-wielders resided, nor those of Yublam, where the guards who killed Rubia were.

I also had no idea where to start looking for information about the Necron Brotherhood, the organization that seemed to connect both cities.

I searched the room and gathered what little money I could find. There was nothing else worth taking. Only a full tray of mail lay in a corner.

Clank.

I put on the armor.

Before I killed the innkeeper, I hadn’t asked him where the armor had come from, nor did I want to ask. I already had an idea in my mind. Some things didn’t need to be asked to be known. My bones clattered as I put on the greaves, gauntlets, and helmet.

Clatter.

The armor covered me completely. From the outside, no one would know I was a skeleton. I looked like a fairly decent knight.

I stood still for a moment. It would have been nice to have walked with her while wearing this outfit.

***

Coo-coo! Coo-coo-coo!

I walked alone on the mountain path.

It was February. This was the southern part of the Empire. In the south, the snow melted early. The snowy winter landscape soon vanished into a misty memory, but the memory of winter did not fade.

Crunch.

I stepped on dirt and stones and walked the snowless mountain path. I thought about what had happened on the snow, which had now melted. I thought about what had happened with the girl who had just become a necromancer. When the snow hit, it felt like the back of my skull was throbbing.

Clatter.

Just like I had thought many times before, I needed to become stronger. I needed to grow stronger steadily without exposing myself to danger. There was only one way: leveling up. The fastest way to level up was to hunt humans.

However, wandering aimlessly was problematic. Attacking anyone on a mountain path was not a good idea because the strength humans possessed didn’t always match their appearance. They were unpredictable beings.

With monsters, assessing their strength at a glance was easy. Their appearance generally provided an accurate assessment. If I lined up goblins, trolls, and ogres, their strength would correspond to their appearance.

In contrast, there was a huge variation in strength with humans. Many times, it was impossible to gauge just by looking. It was strange and inconsistent. A girl who looked weak could suddenly show tremendous strength. Humans were twisted and distorted somewhere.

I didn’t know how to correct it, nor did I feel any need to correct it. I just needed to be cautious. Attacking someone just because they seemed easy could lead to big trouble. I might find myself thrown straight into the valley of death. I would end up back in the grave.

I need to go to a dungeon.

In the end, I decided to go to a dungeon, which seemed like a strange thing to do. Dungeons were places prepared humans come to. Dungeons were places where belligerent humans intentionally sought out.

Going to such a place might seem like a mad act, but it was the right thing to do. Humans who entered dungeons had a measurable level of strength. The strength of an adventurer generally matched the dungeon they entered.

For example, a Lion Knight or a member of the Ash Order, clad in anti-magic armor, wouldn’t go to a dungeon filled only with rattling Skeleton Soldiers. Azure’s wizards or swordmasters wouldn’t go to a goblin den for extermination.

It wasn’t even an unspoken rule—it was just common sense. Humans didn’t go to places where there was absolutely nothing to gain. Humans entered dungeons that matched their level.

For example, level 1 to 15 adventurers might go into an F-rank dungeon. It was for those who had just chosen the path of adventure. If someone above level 15 entered, they wouldn’t gain any meaningful experience.

Clatter.

I trudged deeper into the mountains. I thought about nearby dungeons and considered where I should go. A dungeon came to mind.

The Ossuary of Wraiths.

In my first life, I had spent about three years in that dungeon. I lived in the cave maze near Erast for three years. After escaping, I wandered aimlessly. Dodging beasts and people, I eventually arrived there. For some reason, it felt like a place I was drawn to. When I went inside, it was filled with skeletons like me.

The Ossuary of Wraiths sounded intimidating, but it was a rather shabby dungeon with no real substance. It was a place where novice adventurers passed through for practice.

It could even be called a test of courage because it was a dungeon with very low difficulty. There was nothing much to steal—it was just for practice. It was a place filled with Skeleton Soldiers that could be easily smashed without much excitement, including myself.

I’ve been broken countless times there.

I was trampled and shattered repeatedly by practicing adventurers. Sometimes it took a few days, sometimes a few weeks, but I would rise again. I remember clattering and wandering around the not-so-wide dungeon. I recalled my memories.

The Ossuary of Wraiths had a notable feature. It had an open space inside. There was a special mechanism. If one solved a stone puzzle and pressed the stone wall, a door would slowly open, leading further inside. The dungeon boss was there.

Staying there might be okay.

The hall where the dungeon boss resided. I planned to hide there, inside the stone wall opened by the mechanism. I intended to hide there and pick off humans who entered the dungeon one by one.

Then, I would level up. Once I could no longer level up by killing low-level humans, I would move on to another dungeon. It wasn’t a place to stay for long.

The dungeon lay deep within a dark forest. A narrow cave entrance, layered with shadows. Inside, it was gloomy and shabby. There were puddles here and there, and piles of bones scattered throughout.

There were several paths at the entrance.

However, any path other than the main route quickly got blocked. If I took the wrong path, I would soon realize it. It wasn’t exciting, but easy to clear. There were no elaborate traps or runes protecting the cave. Weak humans often came in. They enjoyed breaking skeletons and indulging in light entertainment.

I walked along the mountain path, recalling the interior of the dungeon. Walking while lost in thought made the journey much less tedious.

Clank. Clank.

I walked for a long time. Maybe it was because I was walking quickly without stopping, the sound of the plate armor clanking was quite loud. When I became aware of it, I realized that I was walking rather fast. I was walking as if I being pursued. I was anxious, driven by my own powerlessness.

I’m almost there.

I finally arrived at the entrance of the dungeon.

Whooo!

The area around the entrance was very dark, making it seem as though the thick darkness of the dungeon was seeping out.

I chuckled to myself.

The main defensive element of this dungeon wasn’t monsters or mazes. It was just the fact that it was a dungeon in a gloomy place like this. It only looked eerie on the outside. That was it.

It’s just the atmosphere.

The monsters were weak, and the maze was simple. Most humans knew that much.

But now I was going in there. If I actively started hunting adventurers, the dungeon’s rank might increase a little. When humans began losing their comrades one by one, and they felt something was off in the dungeon, I would then take leave.

As I tried to open the door, a strange message appeared in the air. It felt as if it were talking to me.

[Ossuary of Wraiths]

[Dungeon rank: F]

[Recommended level: 1-15]

[This dungeon may be slightly difficult at your current level.]

[Recommended clear party size: 3-4]

What is this?Are there messages for entering places now?

I pushed the door anyway.

Rumble!

The large dungeon entrance opened.

From here on out, I know this place like the back of my hand.

I had lived in the cave for three years. Though there weren’t any traps anyway. I slowly walked inside.

Tap. Tap.

Footsteps echoed in the dungeon. The floor was plain stone, and a few piles of bones and scattered ashes littered the ground.

I glanced briefly at the ashes and moved forward.

There were three paths ahead. The rightmost one led further inside. There was nothing to see by taking any other route. It would only waste more time.

I took the right path. As I ascended the stairs, the surroundings opened up.

Ah, I remember this place.

A rather large open area awaited. The open area was silent.

Crackle.

A campfire lit the interior. It seemed like a common resting spot for adventurers.

Looking at it now, it’s practically a playground.

There was also a camp inside the dungeon, akin to an adventurer’s playground. It was almost embarrassing to call it a dungeon. I passed through the open area and entered further down. I went through a place where dried vines were tangled here and there.

I quietly stared at the vines. Among the vines, some occasionally wriggled, alive. They would bind limbs, melt their skin, or tear their limbs apart. Of course, there were no such vines in an F-rank dungeon.

The vines here were just dried up, unable to pull or restrain anything. These vines had long been dead. They suited this place filled with the weakest of skeletons clattering around. Adventurers seemed to have trimmed the vines because it was annoying to duck under them. Thanks to that, it was easier for me to enter as well.

Clatter.

After walking a bit further, I heard some noise.

Are those the ones guarding the dungeon?

There were no voices. Since I only heard rattling sounds, it was unlikely to be adventurers. I walked slowly to check it out. As expected, it was a skeleton. I intentionally made noise as I walked.

Clatter!

The skeleton turned around. It was holding a rusty sword in one hand, reaching out with the other, without even a shield, as it staggered toward me.

Is it the gatekeeper?

Skeleton Soldiers did not have names. I only remembered that a gatekeeper was there. The one who broke first and was reassembled first. It was fleeting and pitiful. The skeleton seriously blocked the entrance, but there was no real meaning in it. Humans only enjoyed it. They delighted in defeating it, again and again.

I had been in the same position as that skeleton, unable to speak or think properly. I just aimlessly wandered around this cave, with no purpose, direction, or desire. I just wandered aimlessly like something merely moving around.