The Skeleton Soldier Failed to Defend the Dungeon

As the drums thundered, the bones inside my armor vibrated slightly. I felt no particular excitement, just a faint tremor. For humans, it was different. Their blood boiled, they roared, and they clenched fists and waved them in the air.

The announcer declared, ”Let the match... begin!”

Whoosh!

My opponent stomped heavily and swung his hammer fiercely. The hammer seemed capable of breaking buildings, but it wasn’t a threat to me.

The man sneered and taunted, ”Zagan Seere? What a ridiculous name. It fits you though, because you’ll soon be a ridiculous corpse!”

He chuckled mockingly. I gazed at him silently.

The Collapser, Seere. The Berserk, Zagan.

In ten years, every human would know the names of the Demon Kings. However, judging by this man’s level, it didn’t seem like he’d survive long enough to see that day.

The man swung his weapon, and I could instantly gauge his skill level.

I asked, ”How strong are you, exactly?”

”What? Hahaha! Strong enough to crush you, that’s for sure!”

He laughed exaggeratedly, clenching his fist and raising his massive hammer in one hand, a move full of openings.

Tap.

I let my sword hang loosely and asked again, ”Humor me, how strong are you, really?”

”Find out... yourself!”

Whoosh!

He forcefully swung his hammer down. I sidestepped it and moved into his blind spot.

Whack!

I struck his wrist hard with the flat side of my bastard sword. I didn’t want to fuel the human crowd’s thirst for blood.

Clang!

”Aaargh!” the man screamed, dropping his hammer.

Thud!

He fell backward.

I placed my foot on his massive hammer and asked, ”How strong are you, exactly?”

”Ugh...Uuuugh...”

He seemed incapable of comprehending the disparity in our skills from the brief clash. He tried to grab his hammer again, but I stomped on his gauntleted hand.

”Argh! Uuuaaagh!”

”How strong are you?”

No answer.

He seemed to lack intelligence.

Slash!

I swung my sword and cut the hammer’s handle in half.

Now, only the massive head and a short wooden shaft remained. The entire sequence took less than fifteen seconds, leaving the audience no time to react.

The announcer quickly raised his hand and declared, ”Zagan Seere wins!”

He updated the bracket, and moved me up a tier.

For a moment, there was silence. But then, the crowd erupted in cheers.

”Wow!”

”Amazing!”

”He’s so strong!”

The audience quickly grew accustomed to my presence and cheered. Though some complained about the lack of bloodshed, their voices didn’t carry much weight. Soon, blood would be spilled to satisfy them.

I glanced around at the crowd, their faces alight with greed for blood and violence. I knew their fate. The Nine Years’ War would soon begin. The blood of imperial peasants, citizens of the Free Confederation, and Ember anarchists would flow. Even if they survived that war, fewer would live through the descent of the Sixteen Demon Kings.

Ignorant of my thoughts, the crowd roared for the emerging champion.

”Woohooo!”

They seemed eager to align themselves with me and cheered me on as if I were their savior. My victory, however, brought them no tangible benefit.

Still, they did so to perhaps bask in the winner’s glory, even if it was brief. There were, of course, plenty of losers in the crowd.

”My money!”

Some gamblers who had bet on my opponent howled, lamenting their losses.

Ignoring the overwhelming cheers and scattered jeers, I returned to Rena. ”That was easier than expected.”

She looked at me with an adoring gaze. ”The odds were 40 to 1! I bet 50 roti, so we just won 20 seiron!”

I’d made her some money.

”You bet it all on that guy?”

”Oh, no, that was 4 to 1. The 40 to 1 was for you winning the entire tournament.”

”What?”

”You’re going to win it all, right?”

Rena grinned mischievously.

How am I supposed to handle this?

***

Throwing a match on purpose wasn’t easy either. I had to make it convincing if I wanted to lose.

Crack!

The halberd snapped in two and dropped to the ground. My second opponent’s helmet that I struck with the flat side of my blade, was slightly dented. If I had struck with full force, he would’ve died instantly.

Killing would have stirred up trouble, even though it would’ve thrilled the crowd. I wanted to avoid that kind of attention.

”Ugh... Uuuugh...”

The man stumbled back several steps before he collapsed onto the dirt.

Pathetic.

The fight ended quickly. Even this large man swinging his halberd wildly posed no real challenge.

The announcer caught his breath and proclaimed, ”The winner is... Zagan Seere!”

”Yeahhh!”

The crowd roared again. Cheers, applause, and stomping feet reverberated. Drums thundered in rhythm.

The level here is so low.

That day, I had only two matches. Both were straightforward victories.

When I returned, Rena greeted me with a smile. ”You’ll get a message tonight.”

”A message about what?”

”I’ll be in another room. Enjoy yourself.”

I didn’t understand what she meant. Rena slipped away, probably to deal with her gambling business.

I wandered the streets alone.

***

”Zagan Seere, the One-Strike Victor!”

Is that directed at me?

Despite the anonymity my armor provided, many seemed to recognize me.

”Oh, that’s him!”

”His performance was incredible, he crushed both opponents in one strike!”

”Wow!”

A boy broke free from his mother’s hand and ran toward me, grabbing my cold gauntlet with his tiny fingers. ”You’re amazing!”

Amazing? What’s so amazing?

A strange, nauseous feeling stirred in me.

Is this what humans are like?

I gently released his hand and returned to the lord’s castle. A guide hurriedly approached me.

”Sir Zagan, we’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

”For me?”

”Yes. Dinner and dancing girls have been prepared. Please join us...”

”I’m not interested.”

I refused bluntly, but the guide was persistent.

”The round of sixteen has already been decided. Your presence would greatly honor the occasion. If dining with others is unpleasant, shall we send the dancers to your room instead?”

”No.”

”Please, sir... You’d be saving my life. The lord will have my head if I fail to bring you.”

The guide’s expression was genuinely desperate. He might have been one of the castle people who had cared for Rubia. Now, he likely scraped by under the current lord.

I almost refused again but decided being compliant might be less troublesome.

”I’ll attend, but I’ll keep my armor on. I have severe burns.”

The guide seemed relieved, his face lighting up as he nodded repeatedly.

”Of course! Thank you so much!”

Following him, I entered the banquet hall and sat in the furthest corner, far from the lord. Even with my sword, no one objected to my presence. The lord glanced at me with curiosity before addressing the attendees.

”Enjoy yourselves to the fullest!”

Ting-ting, ding-ding...

Music filled the hall as women in translucent garments danced provocatively for reasons I didn’t understand.

So this was a human banquet. It wasn’t a raucous celebration. Instead, the musicians played stiffly, glancing around nervously.

The dancers endured groping hands with forced smiles, offering their bodies without protest. The division between those enjoying themselves and those being used was stark.

The banquet table was laden with whole roasted birds and animal carcasses. It was disgustingly human.

I intended to sit quietly before leaving, but the lord called out to me.

”Sir Zagan! It is an honor to have you participate in the tournament I’m hosting. May I ask where you trained?”

His oily face twitched as he feigned importance.

Should I kill him?

That would be foolish.

The distance between us was too great, and his eight guards stood in tight formation, their hands on their sword hilts, watching the surroundings warily. They were the same hyena-like guards I had seen earlier.

I replied politely, though irritation simmered beneath the surface. ”I didn’t train formally. I learned on my own.”

”Haha! Remarkable! I hear you’ve remained vigilant since entering the city. Such discipline is admirable, truly inspiring.”

Why is he acting chummy?

From his perspective, it was understandable. This was a man who had killed his brother, exiled his kin, and usurped the lordship. He had no legitimacy, only fear and power to sustain his rule. Even hosting this tournament was likely a ploy to recruit skilled fighters. I exchanged a few pleasantries before excusing myself.

As I entered my room, I froze.

”Who’s there?”

My hand rested on my sword hilt. A woman in transparent clothing knelt by the bed.

An assassin?

”The lord sent me to attend to you. Please allow me to serve you tonight...”

I let out a bitter laugh. This was likely the lord’s way of forging camaraderie with others to buy their loyalty.

”Leave.”

The woman trembled on her knees, unable to meet my eyes. ”I-I’m good at this...”

Knock, knock.

The door opened behind me, and Rena stepped in.

”Put her to sleep for now and send her away later. If she leaves like this, she’ll be punished.”

”Punished?”

The woman bowed deeply. ”I-I’m sorry...”

Rena helped her to her feet. ”No need to apologize. I know what it’s like.”

Rena turned the woman around, revealing her back. It was covered in whip scars.

”If guests aren’t satisfied, they face punishment like this, or worse.”

After examining the woman’s injuries, Rena clicked her tongue in disapproval. ”They’ve tortured her all over. Take the bed tonight. We don’t need sleep here anyway.”

The woman trembled, too scared to make a move.

I asked Rena, ”Why are you here?”

”I figured something like this might happen. I’ll head back now. I’ve got to maximize profits. Enjoy your evening!”

Rena left the room, leaving the woman behind. The woman lay down on the bed but remained tense, trembling under the blanket.

”Just sleep and pretend I’m not here.”

Though I considered asking her about Rubia, I decided against it because it felt wrong. The awkward night passed in silence.

As the woman lay stiffly, unable to sleep, I leaned against the wall, lost in thought.

Eventually, I broke the silence. ”Have you eaten?”

”I-I’m sorry...”

She only became more tense.

I sighed, feeling strangely empathetic toward her situation. It reminded me of my own past.