The Skeleton Soldier Failed to Defend the Dungeon-Chapter 297: Unearth (17)

I stared at the captain in surprise. Our eyes locked in the air. His expression brimmed with confidence. Honestly, I couldn’t help but be impressed.

The East was something I’d only heard of in stories. I hadn’t even set foot in the Free Confederation, let alone the East. Yet these men claimed they could obtain goods from there. Their network felt immense.

Isaac chimed in. "You might want to retain some dignity. If you gape in awe here, it makes you look cheap. It’s only a replica, anyway."

Replica. I recalled hearing something similar from him before.

You cannot go to the mainland. All you’ll experience is a single small island, a little amusement park version of the East.

After a pause, I asked the captain, "Are you speaking of the mainland, or the island?"

His eyes widened. "You... you know that much? Even we only recently learned of the mainland..."

I could feel his evaluation of me rising on the spot.

Nexmond blinked slowly a couple of times, before saying, "The path to the mainland has not yet been opened. Yes, the East I spoke of is an island."

Isaac seemed strangely satisfied. "Hmm. So he does know there’s a mainland? That alone is impressive. I thought he had only seen fakes."

Hearing that, a question suddenly gnawed at me. "Why do you keep calling it fake? Isn’t it enough to say it’s just a nearby island?"

Fake felt excessive.

The crow clicked his tongue softly. "If you want to know whether it’s real or fake, put a scratch on it. Watch what flows out, you’ll know."

"..."

"The pain, the pleasure, the longing, even the doubt, everything was just slightly off. The nerves and fluids were the same, but when something is copied one more time, the dissonance is unmistakable. I caught it clearly."

"Then you’ve been to the true East yourself?"

Isaac nodded. "I have. But it’s far too dangerous, and there’s nothing left. It’s a world that died in a catastrophe centuries ago..."

"A dead world?"

"Yes. The sort of place only necromancers would enjoy. Most would be devoured instantly by the death that saturates it. At the time I was too busy to explore deeply. There was too much to do here."

"Excuse me..."

My conversation with Isaac had gone on too long.

The captain curiously tilted his head at me. "You seem quite interested in the island. If you tell me what you seek, I will do everything I can to procure it."

He read the mood well. If he was willing to obtain anything, there was no need to hesitate.

I expressed my desire immediately, "Can you get Lurium?"

"...!"

The captain inhaled sharply, drawing his breath so deep it filled his chest. He took a step back.

His brow twitched, then he exhaled slowly. "You mean the liquid used in magitech?"

Clatter.

I nodded inside my helm. There was nothing else I needed at the moment. For a full transfer of power, vast quantities of Lurium were required. Nothing else was tied so directly to permanent transformation, and no one could wield it as well as I could.

Within my head, I divided the world into two. The imperial family hoarded a vast and incomprehensible amount of Lurium, but strictly controlled. I had seen firsthand what disasters erupted when T&T and Naneow tried to steal it.

The Free Confederation's reserves were meager. Even with Councilor Karin Krexar’s cooperation, we had barely gathered less than a bottle after stripping the iron men bare. Meanwhile, Lurium was used as a power fluid for Embermere. It’d be guarded even more fiercely than within the Empire.

Then perhaps, that replicated island in the East could serve as the frontier. Hope stretched out toward the East.

The captain’s expression hardened with resolve. "For a first request, you are indeed extraordinary. I will obtain it for you."

I could tell from his face that he knew exactly how valuable Lurium was. Yet, he declared he would secure it. It made me think meeting these men had been the right choice.

"Then I’ll pay with this."

Swish.

I pushed a cold gauntlet into the empty air. My hand slipped into nothingness as I drew out contraband. Like pliant dough, a lump of synthetic flesh emerged—untouched, preserved without a single scratch. No matter how often people saw items pulled from the void, the sight never grew old.

The captain abandoned all pretense of composure, eyebrows twitching as his mouth hung half open in repeated awe. "Ah... Your rescue of us is more than enough payment. Simply joining us as a member is..."

"No. Take the prosthetic body."

"Heh-heh-heh..." Isaac snickered.

I gave it up because I had a certain assurance. If it were something I desperately needed, Isaac would never have let me. He hadn’t even allowed me to extract Lurium from myself to use on him. To me, this prosthetic was unnecessary. To them, it was a dangerous burden to smuggle. It was better to hand it over.

After refusing several times, the captain finally accepted, defeated. His eyes, filled with awe and astonishment, warmed into favor. A satisfied smile crept to his lips. He appeared ready to do anything.

I asked, "Who exactly uses these prosthetics?"

"There is always demand. Those who have lost parts of their bodies, of course. Those who prefer metal reinforced with control mechanisms over soft flesh and muscle. Those who want to smash stones with their fists without wasting years of training." He paused briefly, then continued after steadying his breath. "And even those who train still find augmenting the body far more effective. Not to mention, those who cannot accept the slow decay of age."

The captain grasped his coat with one hand. A subtle gesture revealed he was clutching more than fabric alone.

"Perhaps most humans..."

Clatter.

"...desire this."

His dark-blue coat fell open, baring himself. Where bone should have been, there was only cold silver metal across his chest and shoulders. Around it swelled firm pectorals of some woven synthetic fiber.

Clank. Clank. Clank...

From his arms to his legs, compartments opened, each filled with weapons that could be fired or swung at will. Every one of them was razor-sharp, designed to strike at angles and moments impossible to predict.

What drew my gaze most was the small machine nestled deep in his chest, pumping blood through his veins.

Thump. Thump. Thump...

"Ho..."

"You know what that is?"

"An artificial heart. Most were built without a pulse, though some added one to suit their taste..."

So even in Isaac’s time, such things had existed.

"In truth, I should have died four years ago. But thanks to this, I live still." The captain pointed to the heart beating within him. "Since then, I’ve been replacing myself piece by piece..."

Had he abandoned his flesh to smuggle prosthetics? Or had abandoning his flesh driven him into such work? The cause and order mattered little now. What mattered was that Nexmond, the consul of the merchant guild, captain of this ship, favored me enough to bear himself this much.

With such modifications, he could’ve fought against the border guards to a standstill. Though no merchant would ever welcome mutual destruction.

"Then why doesn’t everyone replace their bodies?"

I had faced countless foes by now, yet few bore mechanical parts. Even among knights or marquises, I had never seen flesh replaced with steel and control devices. Isabelle, Leandro, the imperial guards, the Blue Lion Knights, the ghosts of the effeminate duke... I had studied them all carefully, absorbing their essences. I would not have overlooked it.

Instead of answering, Nexmond gazed out to the deck. There stood the false, seasick sailor who still clung to the railing. Though pale, he smiled faintly at the horizon, perhaps savoring the fresh sea breeze that masked the stench of bile.

"He is one of the finest prosthetic surgeons alive. Yet, he hasn’t replaced a single part of his."

"..."

"Beyond side effects and outward perception, many simply recoil at the thought of embedding machines in their flesh. It is not difficult to understand. Logic need not apply. And furthermore..." The captain’s voice grew dry, in stark contrast to his earlier sentimentality. "Once you replace the body’s vital organs, you can no longer attain Sword Energy."

"Sword Energy...?"

"The enlightenment passed down since antiquity is rooted in the human body. The viscera, the marrow, the meridians, the kidney, the three burners of upper, middle, and lower... From these arises vital essence, granting humans unimaginable power."

I understood where he was coming from.

"If such core parts are replaced with machinery, the three burners no longer transform. The inner and outer flows collapse entirely." Nexmond shrugged, letting out a dry laugh. "Or so they say. I don’t fully grasp the terms myself."

Neither did I. But I could follow the gist.

Isaac suddenly interjected. "Wrong."

"Hm?"

"What’s so sacred about a human body that it cannot be replaced? Why cling to such preconceptions, especially when you’re no longer human?"

"..."

"Whether you remake it with magic or with engineering, as long as a path is opened, power can be wielded. The line blurs at a certain point. In fact, even if the body has no path, you can carve a new one if you remember the method. So long as you’ve once reached the stage of touching the web behind everything."

He was right. I had no viscera, yet I wielded Sword Energy with ease.

"Humans only see the web that way because their senses are woven into it. Sight, hearing, smell, speech, touch. Raising vital essence through energy flow is but one rule among many..."

I found myself spellbound by his words.

"Then doesn’t that apply to you as well? You look as though you’ve already surpassed such limits." Isaac let out a pained groan. "Ngh... My very soul is bound by restraints. Were it not so, I would already be restoring my own power."

I see.

Hearing his explanation, I felt far less regret about handing back the enhanced physique earlier. I probably wouldn’t reach Isaac’s level quickly, but...

Nexmond, watching my silence, seemed to think I was reflecting on his words.

Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.

Rods lashed the side of the ship, rattling where fishing poles had been tied, swaying with the waves. The sight brought one man to mind.

"Perhaps you know him..."

"Ask, and I’ll answer."

It wasn’t a pleasant memory, yet I still asked about the man who once waited by the shore for Starlight Blue Fox.

"Early forties. Dark blond hair..."

He had spun a pine-thick cone like a toy, hoisted an anchor, and raised the sails all by himself. In the end, the marquis slain him, leaving him dangling from the anchor chain. As I described him, Nexmond’s expression shifted again and again. He was no stranger.

"Was he part of the merchant guild too?"

"Haa..."

The captain let out a long sigh before answering.