The Ghost Knight King’s Dungeon Project

Ch. 6



Chapter 6: [The Twin Moons of the Sky and the Myth Beneath the Stars]

The night shrouded the dim and desolate land.

The shrill howls of the Beak-Hound packs echoed over the Kanna Plains—strange and discordant, a blend of wolfish howling, canine barking, and hoarse avian screeches.

Slimes squirmed in the shadows. Some Rootrot Spheres, their forms resembling twisted plant roots, wandered about in loose lines, wobbling as they carried small rakes and spears made from dried branches of Blood Thorns.

Two moons hung high above the vast plains—one large and pale-white, the other smaller, glowing with a greenish-bronze hue.

Like two warped monster eyes, they watched the darkened world below.

Beneath the gaze of the twin moons, two figures trekked through the wasteland on foot, tall as two upright trees, moving under the cover of night toward the Adventurers’ Guild outpost—Falling Thorn City.

“This world has two moons,” Samael said, gazing at the bronze one with curiosity. “And look at that metallic sheen—quite a stylish finish...”

The bronze moonlight seemed to stare back, reflecting its coppery gaze.

“What do you mean? Did your world only have one moon?” Thaleia glanced at him.

“Yeah, just one big pale moon, with a few dark patches and craters—kind of like your big white one.” Samael gestured with his hands.

“Then... how do souls find their way after death in your world?” Thaleia asked in confusion. “Wouldn’t your world be overrun by wandering spirits?”

“Find their way? Overrun by spirits?” Samael scratched his helmet. “What are you talking about?”

“My father told me that these two moons—one belongs to the living, and one to the dead.” Thaleia pointed upward. “The white one shines upon the living, while the bronze one shines upon the dead. After death, the bronze moon becomes a beacon, guiding souls toward the dark night sky.”

“But the bronze moon is actually a trap. The stars are too far, too vast. The dead, drawn and deceived by its light, wander endlessly in the black expanse until they lose their way—turning into stars.” Thaleia pointed to the heavens. “That way, the dead never linger in the world of the living. The world remains free from the grip of the dead.”

“Uh... is this some kind of local myth?” Samael asked. “Sounds like something out of a bedtime story.”

Truth be told, as a pure science-trained man from another world, Xia Mo’an had little interest in strange myths like this.

It was like how ancient people once imagined rabbits or toads living on the moon.

“It’s not a story! Samael, it’s true!” Thaleia argued stubbornly. “If you’ve seen the Undead Constructs, you’d know! Those skeletal warriors and corpse demons, when left undisturbed, always stare quietly at the sky—they’re looking for their lost souls! Their spirits are lost among the stars, leaving only empty bodies driven by Spiritual Energy, wandering the world.”

“Uh... this might ruin the mood,” Samael hesitated. “I probably shouldn’t say it, but... well, I can’t help myself—stars aren’t lost souls. They’re massive balls of burning gas in the cold, weightless void, just like the sun. They only look tiny because they’re so far away.”

“What nonsense is that? How could stars and the sun be the same?” Thaleia stopped, one hand on her hip, the other poking at his breastplate. “Show some respect for the dead! Some of those stars are my parents—they might be watching me from the far dark sky!”

“Oh—sorry,” Samael said quickly, realizing how cold his words had sounded.

Reality was always cold.

It was like telling a child Santa Claus wasn’t real, that Christmas was a consumerist lie.

That Harry Potter, Hogwarts, the Dragon Clan, and Kassel Academy were all fiction.

That children would just study their lives away for a second-rate college and a third-rate job, chasing a fourth-rate dream until life blurred into mediocrity.

Humans needed to believe in something—even if it was that sacrificing the second baby born in autumn would make the fruit sweeter.

At least it gave the heart something to hold onto.

“Come on—you’re the proof yourself, aren’t you? You were summoned from the starry sky by the Divine Era ruins’ magic circle! You’re clearly a spirit pulled back from the bronze moon’s trap!” Thaleia insisted.

“Uh... no.” Samael shrugged. “I just remember sitting at my computer desk... never mind, forget it. Whatever makes you happy.”

He sighed softly and swallowed the rest of his words.

“You’re not... a fallen star?” Thaleia asked.

The question made Samael pause. He lifted his head to look at her.

“That sounds... poetic,” he said after a moment. “If only I could become a star. Or better yet, a planet—not a star—rotating endlessly, casting shadows over others... letting the wind scatter the breath of chaos...”

He hummed tunelessly to himself, the theme song from the childhood cartoon Star Voyage, forgetting the lyrics halfway—like forgetting the ending of his own childhood.

Thaleia watched him silently.

“‘May I be as the star, and you the moon; shining together in the night, our light forever bright,’” Samael murmured softly.

“What?” Thaleia asked. “That sounds like something a bard would chant. Is it a poem?”

“It’s a poem from my homeland,” Samael explained. “Written by a poet named Fan Chengda—an ancient scholar, or maybe a kind of bard... though more like a writer or an official constantly bullied by emperors.”

“The full poem goes:

‘The carriage rolls, the horses neigh,

My lord travels eastward day by day.

If I could soar upon the western wind,

I’d fly to where you stay.

May I be as the star, and you the moon,

Shining bright, our hearts attuned.

Though clouds may veil the lunar light,

The stars shall wait till both resume.’”

Since arriving in this world, the armor had allowed Xia Mo’an to quickly master the common tongue. But translating classical Chinese poetry into it remained difficult.

He tried his best to preserve the rhythm and imagery.

“What graceful verses,” Thaleia said in awe. “You actually find time for culture and art—were you a noble or royal in your homeland?”

“I wish,” Samael said, scratching his helmet. “But no—I came from an ordinary background. It’s just that in my homeland, people expect young folks to know everything, even art and culture... it’s exhausting.”

“So you love culture and art?” Thaleia asked.

“Not really,” Samael admitted. “I memorized those poems because, back then, a show called Ancient Poetry Contest was popular on the education channel. My primary school copied the idea and held a contest—every class had to send a student. My teacher and parents thought I had a good memory, so... unfortunately, I got picked.”

He said it awkwardly.

“There was even a challenge called Flying Flower Verse, which required knowing many poems. So for a while, I memorized dozens every day. This one stuck with me—it’s beautiful.”

“What’s a ‘television’?” Thaleia asked. “Were these contests... for culling unworthy offspring? Were the losers executed or abandoned?”

“What—no! Of course not! Why would you think that?!” Samael was horrified.

Thaleia was silent for a moment.

“...Because... in the Demon Domain, heirs to the throne must compete like that—at the age of twelve,” she said stiffly. “My sister was abandoned because she lost. I... I didn’t want to be abandoned, so I...”

Her voice faded into silence.

The two stood quietly.

“I’m tired,” Thaleia said at last.

“We can rest here for a while,” Samael offered gently. “You’re running low on strength. My body doesn’t tire—I’ll keep watch.”

By the roadside stood a white boulder, large enough to block the wind and hide them from other creatures of the wasteland.

Thaleia silently sat down against it but didn’t remove her helmet.

“Get some sleep,” Samael said, leaning beside her. “We’ll move on when you’re rested.”

“I can’t sleep,” she murmured.

“...” Samael paused, then changed the subject. “Want to hear a myth from my world? We believe there’s a rabbit on the moon.”

“...A rabbit? Why a rabbit?” Thaleia asked, intrigued. “And you mentioned some powerful monkey before.”

“They’re all fairy tales, but famous ones. Everyone knows them back home. Let me tell you a bedtime story!” Samael said with sudden excitement. “Once upon a time, on a mountain covered in flowers and fruit, there was a stone filled with Spiritual Energy...”

The twin moons shone down upon the wasteland.

Beneath the starry sky, beside the white boulder, a cursed suit of armor told a myth from another world—

A story of a stone-born monkey who crashed the celestial feast of the gods, and a devout monk who obeyed an emperor’s decree to journey west in search of knowledge and truth.

At first, she listened eagerly, interrupting with questions now and then—but drowsiness eventually overtook her.

In that foreign myth, she drifted into deep sleep.

Samael carefully settled beside her, making sure his metal body didn’t clatter and wake her.

Listening to her soft, even breathing from within her helmet, he opened the faintly glowing cyan UI panel once more, continuing to analyze the technology tree and components of his armored form.

This world seemed to hold far too many secrets.

He pondered quietly.


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