Ark Undead

Judging from his voice, it was dry, hoarse, and sounded old.

Perhaps he's a knight who ran away from the border, abandoned his identity, and is preparing to live out the rest of his life in peace!

Even in this critical moment, Koss still subconsciously gathered all the information he could get his hands on.

"I was just... startled too... Hehe, boss, what do we do? Go back like this?"

Fran's face was covered in fat, and his face was deathly pale.

Anyone who didn't know better would think he had a sword to his neck.

"go back?"

Koss slapped Fran on the head again. After the fear of life and death, he was filled with extreme excitement and said angrily.

"Going back now won't get us any better, will it? Do you think the higher-ups will let us off the hook?"

Koss figured that if he went back now, the company would definitely try to recoup the losses from them.

We must at least try to salvage the situation.

"That..."

Fran waited for Kos to make a decision, then took out a candy from his pocket, opened the wrapper, and popped it into his mouth.

Koss thought for a moment, gritted his teeth, and looked up.

The undead in front have walked for a while and just turned a corner.

"Let's go! Let's find that fake square-headed guy again!"

As he spoke, Kos was about to start the Originium vehicle.

"Boss! You can't do that! We can't beat him, we won't be able to get the debt back!"

Fran's eyes drooped. Although he didn't face the undead directly, his aura was palpable even from behind Kos.

This kind of person is not someone that two third-rate knights can handle.

"What do you mean it's impossible? I'm not going to collect a debt from him."

Kos stepped on the gas and gave chase.

"You saw how fast he drew his sword, didn't you? Quick, accurate, and ruthless. If I had hesitated even a fraction of a second longer, and hadn't spoken, the sword tip would be piercing my neck!"

Koss made a bold decision.

"If we bring him back and have him replace Square Head and Round Head in the competition, or even help our company participate in the Knights' Race, what ranking do you think he could get?"

"what?"

Fran hadn't thought about that; he was only thinking about how to beat that guy.

"What do you mean, 'huh'? I'm asking you a question!"

Koss glanced at Fran beside him with a look of utter disappointment.

What annoyed him most about this fat guy was his slow thinking. If it weren't for him following him, would he have gotten to where he is now?

"If we can convince this person, the company will not only stop pursuing us regarding square or round haircuts, but they might even promote us and give us a raise."

As Kos pondered a solution, he also savored the memory of that sword strike.

The people living in Kazimierz have an innate appreciation for strength.

Regardless of whether he was a professional knight in the competition or not, that sword strike was full of power and beauty.

He hadn't seen a knight capable of wielding this sword technique in a long time.

"Damn, that's beautiful..."

Koss sighed, turned the corner, and sure enough, he saw the Undead, who was about to enter a house.

Hurry up and drive over there, then park your car in front of the Undead's house.

"My lord! This lord! Wait!"

Kos shouted as he turned off the engine, then nudged Fran next to him and whispered to him to get out of the car.

Then the two men got out of the car and stood in front of the Undead.

As soon as the Undead opened the door, he heard someone calling him from behind. He turned around to look.

Why are there still these two little brats?

Kos and Fran stood in a row, simultaneously raised their right hands, tapped their breastplates, then placed them on their left breastplates, and bowed deeply to the undead in front of them.

"My lord, I have a brilliant idea, I wonder if you would be interested... Wait! Don't make a move! I'm not here to cause trouble!"

As soon as Kos stood up, he saw the undead with his hand on the hilt of his sword on the left, as if he was about to make a move.

He instinctively took a step back, then said in a panic.

"We'd like to invite you to the city to compete! There's money to be made! Nice housing! And...and..."

Kos was trying to figure out what to do to impress the fake square-headed man in front of him when he saw the firewood behind the undead and instinctively shouted it out.

"And the finest firewood!"

Snapped!

After saying that, Kos slapped himself. What was firewood? Could it possibly catch the eye of this powerful knight?

But he saw the knight loosen his grip on the sword hilt with his right hand.

He shook the firewood off his shoulder and asked in a deep, resonant voice.

"Good firewood?"

Koss was stunned.

isn't it? !

23. Veteran Knight Armor

Three days later, in front of the blacksmith's shop.

The immortal squatted at the doorway, legs apart, hands on his knees, waiting for the blacksmith's shop to open.

The wooden door creaked open, and the middle-aged blacksmith came out carrying a cup of hot milk. He took a sip, then stretched in the sun.

"Wow, the old man is here so early?"

The blacksmith was no longer surprised to see the immortal man. He had heard from the townspeople that this old man, who claimed to be immortal, went out very early every morning to buy firewood.

It seems that the old man had a habit of lighting a campfire in his room.

Occasionally, people returning home from the tavern at night would see a warm firelight outside the room of this new neighbor.

The Undead nodded, greeted the blacksmith, and then stared at the blacksmith without saying a word.

"I know, I know, armor, right? Don't just stand there, come in."

The immortal followed the blacksmith in.

The blacksmith put the half-finished milk on the table, then picked up a piece of black bread, threw it into his mouth, and chewed it twice.

"Let me make it clear first, this armor does not meet my ideal level of perfection."

As he spoke, the blacksmith went into the inner room, and a short while later he carried out a large box for the undead.

This large chest is made entirely of wood. If it contains equipment, it will be quite heavy.

As expected of a blacksmith who has been forging iron for many years, his arm strength is extraordinary.

"You didn't tell me what kind of special style you wanted. When you asked me to make weapons, it was a sword and shield. So I made you armor according to the standard of medium armor."

As he spoke, the blacksmith wiped his hands haphazardly on his clothes and then unlocked the box.

"The lower body is protected by chainmail to cover the groin, and the rest of the body is made according to your body measurements. The joints are connected with animal hide, and then another layer of iron armor is added on the outside. As you requested, hooks were placed on the back of the upper body armor to hook the shield."

The blacksmith first took out the upper body armor to show the undead, and then took out the trousers from the box to show the undead the fur layer inside the leg guards.

"There's also a lining sewn by my wife inside, so it's definitely warm enough. Winters in Kazimierz are notoriously difficult to endure."

Finally, they took out shoes, gauntlets, and a helmet from the box.

"I also made individual knuckle covers for each finger using iron plates, and then had my wife connect them with animal hide. As for the shoes, they have insoles. The helmet also has a shock-absorbing layer made of elastic material inside."

The blacksmith showed the undead the complete set in his hand, and then looked at the undead.

"Now, let's give it a try."

The blacksmith went into the inner room; he needed to finish his breakfast and leave the entire front room for the undead to put on their equipment.

The undead took off his upper body armor and picked up the armor the blacksmith had made for him, weighing it in his hand.

The weight is just right, not too much or too little.

"Actually, the effort and money I spent making this outfit for you far exceeded the reward you gave me for solving that problem before."

The blacksmith's tone was slightly wistful; he chuckled, still chewing on bread.

"..."

The immortal paused for a moment, then asked.

"Do I have to pay more?"

"Oh, no. That's not necessary."

The blacksmith quickly refused the offer of extra money for the undead, explaining.

"Mainly, it's been a long time since I've crafted such primitive equipment, so I guess I just had an itch to do it."

The undead put on the armor, then took off the leg guards and put on their own.

While putting it on, the Undead expressed his bewilderment.

"It's been a long time since we've crafted any equipment. Why?"

Logically speaking, the blacksmiths around Kazimierz should be receiving a steady stream of orders, so why haven't they made any armor in a long time?

"Grandpa, don't you know? We stopped making equipment by hand a long time ago!"

The blacksmith spoke as if it were the most natural thing in the world, and his tone didn't seem particularly disappointed.