The Skeleton Soldier Failed to Defend the Dungeon

Monty slowly peeled the hide from the Krotte’s chest. Stretching between eighty to one hundred and twenty centimeters, its girth was around thirty centimeters. Its snout protruded forward.

The Krotte were known for their long, slenderness and front claws, perfect for burrowing deep into the earth. Yet, connoisseurs coveted them for other reasons. That faintly tufted softness. That unmatched insulation against the cold. That lingering, subtle sheen that never dulled.

To strip the prized chest hide intact, one had to start at the belly and give the skin room. Already slit at elbows, crown, and ankles, the hide came away like clothing designed to be removed. Beside him lay a heap of grisly remnants, meat stripped bare, piled into one grotesque mass. Even the most hardened would shake their heads at such a sight.

However, Monty’s focus never wavered. He slid his blade between flesh and bone, hand working with delicate precision, shaving away as though peeling fruit. The knife moved to the creature’s forelimbs. Its claws, dulled from endless digging, bore no trace of struggle.

Thud.

Monty set aside the last piece. At last, it was finished. Skinning was a pleasure, but only when it was a Krotte dead from overwork.

He turned toward his waiting subordinates. ”It’s done. We can...”

Before he could finish, a chill seized him. The air had dropped in temperature. The change came not to his eyes or ears, but through the very hides he had just stripped.

It was cold. The sun still shone bright, hence time wasn’t the reason. Yet, the full-fledged member of the Necron felt the icy sting crawl up his skin. And he understood why. They were all gone.

”...”

Monty pressed his lips tight, trying to drown his fear in silence. Even if he’d been absorbed in his work, there was no way his men could vanish without a sound. They’d been right beside him.

He swallowed hard, drew his knife, and stepped forward. One step. Two steps. He wanted to call out, to shout their names. But the moment he did, he knew everything would collapse.

The forest grew stiller, while the air grew colder. The daylight itself felt false and unsettling. He clenched his hand tight to still its tremble around the blade. Stilling his breath, he scoured the ground.

No traces. Even the chairs his men had been sitting on stood untouched. How could so many vanish at once? His instincts whispered to run. Yet everything felt unreal, like a trick.

Whoosh...

A faint breeze lifted Monty’s hair. It was weak, filtered through dense trees, yet it chilled him like ice water.

Thud.

Something dropped. Almost at the same time as it hit the ground, Monty spun and slashed his knife. His reaction was quick, like an animal, but it was pointless. It was only a small boot. A child-sized boot...

Monty lifted his gaze. And there they were. It was his men, the ones he had sought. They were shriveled, dangling from the high branches, necks bound by nooses.

Thud. Thud. Thud...

Loose boots slipped free and fell, their sound as natural as leaves drifting down. The wind stopped, and so did Monty’s breath.

His thoughts faltered. Who had done this? How was it even possible? Had they all floated up together for some mass suicide? That was absurd.

He had to shout. He had to—

That was when he realized a noose had tightened around his neck.

Creaaak!

The rope constricted with crushing force. Not only his breath, but his spine felt ready to snap as well. His eyes rolled back before the rope slackened, just enough to let him gasp, only to tighten again. Foam seeped from his lips. His consciousness frayed. The noose lengthened, then snapped tight again, over and over.

”Those creatures that burrow underground...”

He heard a dry voice. Only then did Monty recognize the figure behind him. Until now, the noose had been everything.

”Forty-four Krotte, tunneling below... ah, one just died of overwork. Forty-three remain. Tell me, why don’t they simply flee? You couldn’t possibly chase them all down one by one.”

The number was exact. The precision made Monty flinch. Who was this man? How could he know?

”Torture bores me. Tell me everything. I won’t reward you. But speak anyway.”

The aura pressed in. It was so overwhelming that it felt as though Monty’s heart might burst.

”No... perhaps like this instead.”

The suffocating terror suddenly lifted.

Click!

The figure flicked two fingers of his gauntleted hand before Monty’s eyes. He spread them slightly, waving them back and forth, barely ten centimeters from Monty’s face.

Hypnosis? Could it be that simple, from one who wielded such impossible stealth and strength? That would be too crude.

”Khh...!”

Monty shook his head, resisting. But each time he nearly blacked out, the rope slackened. Each time he drew enough breath to clear his mind, the noose pulled tight again. His breathing itself was controlled. Under such control, men became fragile. Submissive. Slowly but surely, Monty’s gaze dulled, unraveling.

***

The strangled man went limp, his corpse hanging low.

”Phew... still not easy.”

The ambush had been flawless. Nevertheless, using hypnosis, which never registered as a proper skill, was troublesome. I had tried to mimic Isaac’s old methods as best I could, yet it wasn’t simple. It worked well enough on horses, but humans...

Still, I was fortunate. The suggestion had taken hold just before the breath left him.

”The Krotte chieftain, was it...”

The only one said to be capable of conversation. From Monty’s lips, I learned the truth: The chieftain had been taken hostage and locked away in a neighboring village. The Krotte were then driven to dig tunnels deeper and deeper underground. Their target was a gold vein believed to lie beneath this soil.

The burrowing race was well-suited for tunneling, but working existing passages or digging shallow tunnels was far easier. Breaking through dense bedrock was sheer brutality. Yet the Necron cult forced them onward, deeper and deeper. Many collapsed under the labor, dying one by one. Their corpses were then skinned, their hides sold as fur. No wonder even Lime had spoken of their plight with pity.

Shff!

I cloaked myself in the void once more and set off swiftly toward the neighboring village Monty had described.

***

After slaughtering the guards who had been watching over the Krotte chieftain, I found him crouched beneath a table, head pressed low. He was smaller than most Krotte, but his head was larger. Unlike their degenerate eyes, his gaze was wide, albeit fixed on the floor.

”Stand.”

The chieftain slowly rose. ”M-me...?”

His limbs were more developed than those of others of his kind, enough to stand upright. It made him seem more suited for walking above ground than burrowing beneath it.

Clink, clink.

Heavy shackles bound his wrists and ankles, each ringed with bells that rang ominously whenever he moved.

”Don’t move.”

”Eh?”

Swoosh!

Before he could respond, my blade severed all four cuffs.

Clang!

Eight chunks of iron hit the floor in a dull chorus. I looked at his reddened limbs where the shackles had cut deep.

”The humans are gone. Every one of them. Even those in your village.”

”O-oh heavens!” The chieftain flinched, clutching his head with short arms. ”So... you’ve saved our village, then? Oh, oh dear...”

Scarred from captivity and abuse, his fur was patchy.

He muttered to himself, asking and answering his own questions, ”No, no, foolish! Of course you saved us greatly... How could I ask such a thing?”

”...”

He raised his stubby tail high, pressed his palms together, and bowed repeatedly. ”Thank you! Truly, thank you!”

”There’s nothing to thank me for.”

This was, after all, only part of gaining Lime’s favor.

”Just tell your people to stop digging. That’s all.”

”Oh, oh...” In the middle of bowing, the chieftain paused, long whiskers twitching in thought. ”Well... with the humans gone, we will no longer be driven so cruelly. But...”

”What is it?”

”We will still dig. That is how we were made. To burrow, to move beneath the earth. It is what feels right.”

”Then you’ll remain here? Hoping to find that gold vein?”

The chieftain shook his head. ”No. The ground has been torn too deep already, and the memories here are filled with pain.”

”...”

He let out a strained grunt before saying, ”May we follow you?”

It was words I hadn’t expected.

”What?”

”We dug this far and found nothing, so it was a mistake. Shall we dig for you elsewhere?”

The request startled me.

Dig for me?

The imperial tunnel came to mind, where the hidden vault of Lurium was kept. But no. I could not cast such a suicidal task upon them. Isaac himself had said the reliquary was sealed on every side, by sky, by earth, and by the underworld. They couldn’t break through. And even if they could, only demise awaited them, such as the Ashen Knight.

”Well. Best that our ties end here.”

Any moment, imperial ghosts or the Demon King’s servants could appear. Even beings more unfathomable, like the Ashen Knight.

Perhaps it was the pitiful look in the chieftain’s eyes that made me add words I hadn’t needed to. ”I’ve stirred too much already. I’ve no time.”

”Oh... stirred, you say... Do not despair so.” He scratched his head and went on. ”We are, quite literally, a digging race. We seem to scratch at the ground without aim, gaining nothing. But...”

He puffed his chest slightly. ”When we burrow, the deep soil rises. Nutrients buried far below mix into the upper layers. Land thought barren becomes fertile again.”

”...”

”Even what already lay above joins with it, producing effects beyond measure.”

The shackled chieftain suddenly appeared in a new light. He was right. This wasn’t just for Lime’s favor. Rushing blindly forward promised no certainty. Taking time, letting things turn, was not always a loss. And if they could enrich the land...

I opened the map and pointed southward, toward the city. ”Then what about here?”

”Oh... a human city.”

His tone spoke the words, but his eyes did not flinch. Strange, for one who had been enslaved mere hours ago.

”Tell them you were sent by one who travels with the crow. If word reaches the lady, she will not turn you away.”

The balance had already shifted far in our favor. I had crushed Yublam’s kin and secured the merchants’ cooperation. By now, Rubia was probably exercising lordship openly.

”Her name is Rubia. If you can aid her in farming, she will be grateful.”