The ravine was steep and sharp, making it difficult to get a steady foothold. As he descended, shards of rock snapped, some dropping on top of the Knight’s head, and others impaled into his hand.

  “Garrrh!”

  “Idiot.”

  Wait a minute… Didn’t that thing speak earlier? Recalling that ominous wailing, Ulrich shivered, his foot almost caught on the uneven stone foothold.

  Even at this moment, his face feels vulnerable and icy. It only made sense. After all, the terrain of this ravine and its narrow passages naturally formed piercing winds. And his face, though only scratches, was deep and numerous enough that leave the flesh exposed. What’s more, this wasn’t his only concern.

  If only I had some healing ointment! He sighed, glancing at the condition of his right arm.

  Most of the ‘non-essentials’ baggage was carried by Borik, the muscle of the group.

  The only thing remaining on Ulrich's person is the small rucksack from Rosaline, which contained his valuables. Unfortunately, he did not anticipate being separated from the group in such an unexpected manner.

  Looking at it, he can only blame himself for being unprepared. Not to mention, he hadn’t even made it past the first inner gate, and this is his condition? That thought irritated him!

  In that moment, the Knight had unknowingly become Ulrich's target for anger.

  Persistent bastard!

  He raised his hand, stabbing the spear deep into the rock.

  Tuk.

  Immediately, a volley of loose rocks peeled away from the force of his spear, sending fragments off the ravine below. Once again, he found himself moving closer to the crazed Knight.

  In that moment, Ulrich hesitated, wondering if he should jump down from here or harass it from this distance.

  Ultimately, he whispered in Hermes:

  “Dark Arrows.”

  What do I look like? A warrior? Fair and square is a mockery of my intelligence!

  Following his evocation, Ulrich's shadow flickered, and five arrows materialized in the air. Without saying a word, the arrows flew with cravings for flesh, and flesh it ate.

  “Despicable h—human!” The knight roared.

  Ulrich frowned. This was the second time he was called “despicable” by a mindless beast, and it felt no less tasteless than being insulted by a dog.

  “You are a knight, if you have honor, why are you still moving about instead of resting?”

  Immediately, the tremor stopped as it looked up at him.

  Its face was melted, flesh dried and exposed. Perhaps due it current condition that its voice was raspy.

  “Y—You are despicable!”

  “…”

  Ulrich’s eye twitched, and the only word that came was:

  “Dark Arrow.”

  This time, only one arrow flew toward its right shoulder. Was he exhausted, being limited to a single arrow? No, certainly not. The goal wasn’t to maximize damage, but rather—pain!

  “Argghh!”

  Ha, I feel much better now. He nodded.

  “Cry some more. If you have the means, why don’t you come up here?”

  Saying so, Ulrich's face froze.

  Praise the Goddess, don’t actually come up here!

  He coughed and looked at the knight, a little curious about its origin.

  In the shadow realm, there are countless creatures, beasts, and undead beings. Undead, especially, are akin to a cursed spirit in the world of the living, though they were physically ‘alive’ in a twisted sense. Nonetheless, each Undead possesses a core, and this ‘core’ is mainly formed from ‘regrets’.

  Curious, he wondered: What is the core of this Once Great Knight?

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  A few seconds passed.

  Then several more.

  Nothing happened.

  He’d expected his foot to vibrate, and his body shaken; however, none of that came. The tremor stopped after he started harassing the Knight. It felt odd because he was growing used to the rhythm and beat of the persistent tremor.

  Seeing this, Ulrich looked down.

  “Buddy, are you finally tired?”

  “Buddy?” The Knight’s voice, raspy and airy, snorted. “E—Exhaustion is a weakness, and I know not such a thing!”

  Ulrich held back the urge to gift him another arrow and laughed.

  Even the way you speak is so irritating!

  He sighed and jammed the spear under his feet, creating a stable foothold.

  Since there’s no more tremor, he didn’t have to worry about it becoming loose. Not to mention, each cast of Dark Arrow drained his spirituality. Maintaining the physical form of the ‘spear’ under his feet was not easy either.

  With all that in mind, Ulrich used this opportunity to recuperate.

  There was a brief moment of silence in the ravine, one that was strange and eerie.

  Below, a tall, Great Knight, stood in silence, as though it had ‘died’ and become a statue. As for Ulrich, he didn’t dare to harass the Knight anymore, afraid that it’d start bashing the wall again.

  Eventually, the wind came and picked up the scent of blood, only to wash it elsewhere.

  “I—I remember now.”

  What? Ulrich looked down. “Remember what? Your lord and savior?”

  The Knight ignored his remarks and continued absentmindedly. “My name, and the fall of Cadry Ruin.”

  He raised his head and pointed his giant sword, staring Ulrich face-to-face, and declared. “An honorable duel, human. And you will obtain a reward beyond your imagination.”

  Still irritated, Ulrich said in a flat tone. “What reward? That rusted sword of yours? Not interested.”

  If I keep harassing you from here and eventually kill you in a direct battle, wouldn’t it be the same?

  The Knight, perhaps reading Ulrich's thoughts, ‘smiled’. It was eerie and frightening since its cheek had long ripped and dried from years of decomposition.

  “H—Human, the greatest treasure that you are looking for in this ruin, only I know of it. And only through my recognition will you be qualified to obtain it.”

  Ulrich's eyes flickered, though outwardly, he sneered. “You are just a gatekeeper, what good treasure could you possibly have?”

  “If I kill you, no matter the method, won’t I still enter the castle and plunder the goods all the same?”

  Once again, a familiar word came:

  “Despicable human! Grave digger!”

  Ulrich grinned, the gentle breeze caressing his cheek as he shook his head. “Sorry, not interested.”

  Immediately, the cliff trembled with a loud thud. For a moment, the spear under his feet wobbled, almost falling with a handful of rocks. Fortunately, he reacted quickly, impaling another one to get a stable foothold.

  Keep getting angry because I’m curious what this treasure is… Surprisingly, it only struck once and called it done.

  In that moment, neither spoke.

  Ulrich wasn’t patient in the slightest as he closed his eyes, trying to recover as much spirituality as possible.

  He knew that the reason ‘it’ had brought up the matter of its memories and identity in the first place must be related to the so-called “Regrets”. An undead creature, such as this Great Fallen Knight, will definitely act in accordance with its core. The chance to fulfill its greatest regret in life, how can it resist?

  As such, Ulrich waits.

  “…”

  A few moments later, that familiar raspy voice came.

  “Human.”

  Ulrich opened his eyes.

  “What do you want now?”

  It lowered its sword and stared above, as though hesitating, then said. “Your spells, you are a Shadowmancer.”

  Ulrich’s eyes flickered with astonishment.

  “So what?”

  At this moment, the Knight smiled. “Cadry ruin, n—no, castle, was once ruled by my lord, William, and he was a powerful Shadowmancer.”

  Oh?

  Curious, he asked. “What rank is this lord of yours?”

  Noticing Ulrich’s interest and change of tone, it raised its chest and added. “A Rank Five Weaver! I—I bet you have never seen one in your life.”

  Ulrich's heart skipped a beat.

  Indeed, this was the first time he’d ever heard of a Rank Five Weaver, said less for interacting with anything related to such a lofty power. Perhaps, even Rosaline was at most a Rank 4 Shadowmancer.

  After all, her appearance was quite young, and for her to be Rank 5? That would certainly give Ulrich a heart attack!

  He tried to maintain a blank look, but his voice betrayed his emotion.

  “Don’t tell me… The treasure you mentioned is related to your lord, and it’s beneficial to a Shadowmancer?”

  The Knight nodded. “Yes.”

  “How can I trust you? If you are guarding such an important treasure, why are you not inside the Keep’s gate?” Saying so, he noticed the Knight’s pride from their interaction and added. “Surely, there is no Knight more honorable and greater than you!”

  The Knight, mindless and lacking intelligence, slammed the sword on the ground. “I am Henrik, the Royal Knight under Lord William, second to none under his command!”

  Furious at Ulrich’s inquiry and doubt, Henrik roared with otherworldly coherence.

  "The Lord is dead, and the Keep is but a wretched, rotten place that devours any living and dead thing that enters. Even I cannot enter it without fearing true death!"

  This… Borik and Snezana never mentioned any of this!

  If that's the case, it would make sense that Henrik, the self-proclaimed Royal Knight under a Rank 5 Weaver, stood at the Inner-Gate and not the Keep's Gate. Did they deliberately hide this information from him? Or was it a matter of ignorance and carelessness?

  Seeing Ulrich's troubled expression, Henrik raised a question, his raspy voice almost gentle.

  "I—I have been guarding the gate for decades. The number of undead never decreases. Why do you think—"

  "Because they come from the Keep," Ulrich blurted, his blood turning cold.

  Instantly, Henrik's dried, cracked face twisted into something resembling satisfaction.

  "Clever human. Now tell me—" The Knight's crimson hollow eyes fixed on him. "How many entered the ruin with you today?"