The Skeleton Soldier Failed to Defend the Dungeon
Chapter 79. Youll Be Able to Do Something Fun (5)

Chapter 79. You'll Be Able to Do Something Fun (5)

In the end, I couldn't withstand it.

Snap!

Both my arms were twisted backward. The troll skeletons on either side pinned me down.

"Grrraaaa..."

The massive hands of the troll skeletons—each easily three times my size—gripped my elbows and wrists. My arms, bent at unnatural angles, felt as though they might snap any moment.

Clunk!

The troll skeletons climbed on me, their incredible strength pressing down relentlessly. I had no chance to resist.

There's nothing I can do.

My chin slammed against the cold, uneven floor, the impact sending tremors through my bones. Desperate and futile, I flailed in resistance.

Rattle! Rattle!

I kicked my legs wildly, but they were also pinned underneath the trolls' massive feet.

Stomp!

I struggled to escape, but the weight of their enormous skeletons rendered me immobile.

This is it.

I willed my body to fight back, but it was a mere thought. In reality, I couldn't move a single bone. Through the crushing pain, questions surged in my mind.

How is this even possible?

The situation was so bizarre that it felt unreal.

Can trolls even be controlled like this?

Their movements were unnaturally coordinated, like marionettes on strings—precise, deliberate, and thoroughly trained. Someone was clearly controlling them...

Who could it be?

Raising a skeleton from a grave was not particularly difficult. Even a novice necromancer could do it.

Even Rubia did it.

However, raising something stronger than a human, like an orc, was significantly harder.

Especially when the summoner and the subject belong are different species...

Most necromancers were human, and animating non-human skeletons was doubly challenging. If even orcs were difficult, then trolls—far stronger than the tyrants of the highlands—should be nearly impossible.

Few necromancers could animate such creatures, and I had almost never encountered such power, even on battlefields. However, there was another issue: raising a skeleton wasn't the end of the process. Controlling it was far harder, and that control was the core of necromancy.

I recalled the human necromancers who joined a Demon King's army. Their abilities were crude. None of them could arm Skeleton Soldiers with spears or form defensive lines. They could barely direct the skeletons to stand in formation or charge forward. That was the extent of their control.

Yet, even with such limited abilities, those necromancers had held significant status within a Demon King's army.

So, what kind of entity could display this level of control?Has a high-ranking demon already descended? Or perhaps a Demon King themselves?

I didn't know the extent of the power of a Demon King, but this level of magic seemed plausible for one of the Sixteen Demon Kings, who once reigned as the world's despair.

Is it truly them? Or...

Then, a small sigh came from the shadows. "Hmm..."

I had heard the same voice when I first awoke in this place.

Clatter! Clatter!

I lifted my skull, the only part of me still free, and tried to look forward. I needed to see who controlled this place and these creatures.

But a massive troll stepped into my line of sight, blocking my view.

Boom! Boom!

Thud!

As if forbidding me from looking further, the troll smashed my skull into the ground. The pressure was so great that I felt like my jaw might dislocate.

Damn it.

Swoosh.

A cold blade touched my skull. It was an axe.

Whoosh!

The troll raised the axe high. Pinned by its massive strength, with my limbs bound, I couldn't move. As the axe loomed over me, I wondered if this was truly the end.

"Hiding something, are we?"

The voice returned, laced with mocking laughter.

"Hiding something?"

Creak! Creak!

The troll skeletons holding my limbs abruptly released me. These creatures, which could have torn a living human apart, suddenly behaved like docile lambs, retreating quietly. They trudged back into the massive piles of bones surrounding us, disappearing into the shadows.

Clatter.

I placed my hand on the cold floor and forced myself to stand. My bones still ached from the pressure.

I feel like something cracked...

Then, a piercing scream echoed through the cavern, loud enough to make me wish I had ears to cover.

Screeeeech!

From the ceiling, a translucent white mist rushed toward me.

A specter?

Whoosh!

I swung the sword I had picked up, but it passed harmlessly through the mist. Like the trolls, these creatures were undoubtedly under someone's control. I glanced around but saw no one.

Screeeeech!

The mist screamed as it passed through me, chilling me to the core. It wasn't over. Dozens more specters emerged, their translucent forms floating in the air, surrounding me. They moved as one, enveloping me in their ghostly presence.

Whoosh! Whoosh!

I reflexively swung my sword, but it was useless.

Screech! Screech!

The specters passed in and out of me repeatedly, their chilling touch overwhelming my senses.

How annoying...

Their attacks weren't directly harmful to my health. Just as I couldn't hurt them, they couldn't truly harm me either. But their relentless antics made it impossible to focus, leaving me exhausted and deeply unsettled.

Time dragged on.

I was utterly drained. Swinging my sword was pointless. From the moment I was abducted and brought here, I had already lost.

Thud.

I collapsed against one of the bizarre bone piles. A chimera trapped in a cage was already a defeated creature.

"..."

All I could do was sit in silent resignation. Then, I heard something.

"Shhh. Your hands are so red. What sins have you committed? Yet, look how pale they are. A life lived aimlessly makes one like you. Who are you? What toys did you play with? What mother abandoned you?"

The voice taunted me, its words incomprehensible. I still couldn't determine its source.

Are they mocking me?

I scanned my surroundings once more. There was nothing to the sides, behind me, in front of me, even above.

Clang!

I tapped the jagged stone floor with my sword. A foolish act. The sound grated on my nerves. Frustrated, I threw the sword away. The strange, bone-filled labyrinth around me seemed to mock my every move.

I muttered softly into the void, "Who are you?"

"Who are you... who are you... who are you..."

The echo, which hadn't responded to my earlier actions, now amplified my words, reverberating endlessly.

The voice theatrically said, "The warehouse keeper who starved to death, the poet who was killed with their tongue torn out, the stowaway murdered on the deck of a ship."

Is this a joke?

Pinpointing where the voice was coming from was impossible. It sounded distant at times, as if it echoed from far away, yet it also seemed to emanate from the massive piles of bones surrounding me.

"And the necromancer who was raped, burned alive, and reduced to ashes."

I stood up.

Clatter!

"You know about Rubia?"

The words were clearly mocking. I grabbed a long halberd lying on the ground. But there was no visible enemy.

Where can I even aim this?

"Do you want to tear me apart? To break my limbs and pull them from their sockets?"

The voice echoed from the space between my legs, specifically the hollow space in my pelvis. "Child, the truth is, that's what's going to happen to you."

The voice resonated through my cervical vertebrae, shaking each bone one by one.

"I'll disassemble your bones and put them back together. I’ll replace your joints and refit your sockets. Shall I give you the wings of an eagle? The arms of a troll?"

What?

At that moment, I realized who the speaker was. There were only so many entities who could say such things. Yet doubt clouded my thoughts.

How... how is she here?

I knew exactly what she meant. Her unique form of necromantic artistry was her disassembling and reconstructing bones, swapping parts between different species. It wasn't an ordinary act like killing or devouring prey. It was a deeply personal and intricate craft that reflected her inner genius and obsession.

Bone modification was her signature. The precision and creativity it required revealed an unmistakable identity that was uniquely her own. Her absolute control was evident in the way she powerfully commanded and ensnared with her necromantic barriers. It was strange I hadn't recognized her until this moment.

But her being here is... completely out of place.

If Rubia and I had stuck to our original plans, we would've been on our way to Embermere by now. The journey to Embermere was meant specifically to meet her. I had intended to plead for her favor, to request her bone-grafting expertise, and to ask her about the cycle of repetition I was trapped in. She was said to be the greatest necromancer. I thought I could borrow her wisdom.

But for her to be here?

It was impossible to guess her circumstances.

Hmm...

I couldn't predict what she intended to do with me. Judging by her words, she likely planned to use me as raw material for her bone experiments.

With so many other bones lying around.

Why me? Is it simply that more was better? For now.

I had no choice but to confront her head-on.

I shouted into the void, "Why did you bring me here?"

A sinister laugh filled with malice echoed around me. "Hohohoho..."

It felt like the sound itself was tightening around me.

She continued, "I just wanted to have a little chat."

"A chat?"

Then what was all that you've done to me so far?

"Yes. I have to wait for someone here, and it gets so boring. I finished excavating this place ages ago. But then I saw an interesting little thing, so I invited you over. Now that the fitness test is done, I'd love to hear about our healthy little guest."

Excavating? What nonsense is she talking about?

"Do I need to start first?"

I was like an ant beneath a colossal finger. Yet, knowing her identity gave me a strange confidence. Luckily, that finger seemed inclined to toy with me rather than crush me outright.

There was amusement and a hint of goodwill in her voice. "My story first? Sure. Ask away."

"You mentioned a necromancer burned alive. How long have you been watching me and Rubia?"

"That woman's name is Rubia? I can read the strongest emotions lingering in a skeleton."

"You mean you can read memories?"

"No, just your interpretation of those memories. The reality could be quite different. Memories and emotions are messy, unreliable things. I can't see details—only vague impressions."

"Then when did you first notice me?"

"Two days ago! I found a skeleton in armor hiding in the bushes, observing humans. How could I just leave such an amusing sight alone?"

"Two days... I've been here for two days?"

I must have been in a deep sleep all this time. After waking up, I struggled against the skeletons that attacked me, losing track of time entirely.

"Now it's my turn to ask. You seem so healthy, even though I did not give birth to you. How long have you been alive?"

What should I say?

I hesitated briefly, then gave a rough answer based on my recall. "Three months."

She asked, "Three months! You look so young, but that's incredible. Tell me, what happened after you woke up?"

Young? She can tell even that? And she doesn't seem very impressed.

Though her words expressed surprise, she seemed more interested in hearing other stories. It stung. My abilities were the product of twenty years of training and eight grueling deaths, with countless levels gained through immense hardship.

For all that to be dismissed as just three months of effort...

A deep emptiness settled within me. I felt like I'd let go of something important. Bitter pride mixed with self-loathing, and before I knew it, I was talking.

I told her about whittling stakes to kill the two hunters and how Rubia ultimately died at the hands of the guards. I recounted leaving humans in a cave and heading toward the Barren Underground Tomb nearby.

"That's in this life."

"This... life?"

The air seemed to tremble. There was a note of confusion.

Clang!

I slammed the halberd into the ground and shouted, "Yes, this life! This is my ninth life! Gith-Za-Rai! I've died and been remade eight times, and yet you so casually dismiss me as having lived only three months. I couldn't save anyone! Not a single person!"

Have I ever been this emotional before?

Talking about Rubia's death brought back the sting of humiliation. My twenty years of effort had been reduced to a mere three months in her eyes. I felt pathetically small, consumed by my own failure. Knowing there was no guarantee of surviving this encounter, I recklessly let the words pour out.

She might not even be that necromancer!

Then it happened.

"Goodness, you startled me!"

The voice, reverberating like it came from the void, suddenly shifted.

"Over here! Right behind you!"

The voice now came from directly behind me. I slowly turned around. The moment I saw her figure—

Clatter!

I nearly jumped out of my skin.

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