Global Survival: I Have Endless Skeletons

For what felt like an eternity, the terrifying battle continued deep within the stone maze, with the endless cries of the Weeping Blood Stonemen echoing through the shifting passages.

With the undead fierce brutality and power, even though the stone maze wanted to keep them forever. It was impossible.

Finally, when the last passage appeared, it was the exit.

Looking at the exit, a faint smile crept up to Thoren’s lips. Without hesitation, he commanded his undead to quickly the few remaining Weeping Blood Stonemen as he hurried through the pass.

Coming out, Thoren couldn’t help but take a deep breath.

Behind them, the stone maze continued to rumble softly, its massive walls slowly shifting back into place as though nothing had happened.

With the terrifying battle over, Thoren could finally observe his undead soldiers.

Standing at the front of the group was the undead General.

Its massive body was completely covered in blood, with thick crimson liquid dripping from its armor and massive saber while countless fragments of shattered stone clung to its body.

Its hollow eye sockets burned with eerie soul fire, the pale flames flickering silently.

Beside it stood the undead Storm Tyrant.

Its enormous hammer was stained completely red, while blood covered nearly every part of its massive body, dripping slowly from its arms and armor and forming small pools beneath its feet.

Behind, stood the undead Kharv and the undead Guild Captain, accompanied by the other undead servants who had fought their way through the maze.

They were all covered in blood.

Some carried pieces of shattered stone on their bodies, while others had blood flowing from their weapons and armor, creating an image so terrifying that any ordinary awakener would have instinctively backed away upon seeing them.

As for Thoren himself.

His shoulder-length silver hair remained clean, his black robe was still pristine, and not a single drop of blood or stain could be found anywhere on his clothing.

Taking another deep breath, his deep blue eyes calmly surveyed the strange land before him while the undead silently followed their master.

Staring at the scene before him, Thoren’s expression changed.

The ground ahead was covered in countless white bones belonging to creatures of different shapes and sizes, with some appearing to belong to beasts while others were so large that Thoren could not immediately determine what kind of creature they had once belonged to.

Some bones were partially buried beneath the sand.

Others were scattered across the ground as though something had dragged their previous owners through the area before tearing them apart.

A massive rib cage rested several meters away, its enormous bones forming a twisted structure that looked almost like the entrance to another underground chamber.

Skulls were everywhere.

Some were small.

Some were enormous.

Some possessed strange horns, while others had long jaws filled with broken teeth.

Yet the most disturbing thing was not the bones.

It was the sound.

Wail!

A distant cry suddenly echoed through the desolate land.

Thoren’s eyes narrowed.

The sound was faint at first, almost like the cry of someone mourning from a great distance.

Then another voice joined it.

And another.

Soon, countless ghostly wails began echoing across the land.

Woooooo...

The voices seemed to come from everywhere.

There was no visible source.

The bones remained motionless, yet the air surrounding them seemed to ripple with invisible figures.

The temperature gradually dropped.

Even the undead stood motionless as the ghostly cries passed through the desolate landscape.

Thoren slowly scanned the area.

His expression remained calm, but his eyes became more serious.

There was something wrong with this place.

It did not feel like an ordinary battlefield.

It felt like a graveyard that had existed for countless years, one where the dead had never truly been allowed to rest.

Then his gaze suddenly stopped. A figure was lying several dozen meters away among the white bones.

The person was wearing a black robe.

Blood covered almost every part of his body.

His clothes were torn, his face was pale, and his chest rose and fell weakly with each shallow breath.

Thoren did not immediately recognize him but he could tell he was part of the three directors that escaped.

"So you survived."

Thoren’s calm voice carried across the silent graveyard.

The injured Director’s body trembled slightly when he heard the voice and his eyes slowly opened.

When he saw the silver-haired figure standing before him, his pupils contracted violently.

"The... Grim Reaper..." His voice was barely audible.

Thoren slowly approached him, stepping over several white bones as the ghostly wails continued echoing around them.

He stopped directly before the injured man.

"Where are the others?"

The Director stared at him without answering and his breathing became slightly heavier.

"Where did they go?" His voice was dangerously low and cold which was enough to tell the injured Director what was about to happen if he chose to remain quiet.

The Director’s lips slowly curled into a bitter smile as blood leaked from the corner of his mouth.

"You killed everyone..."

His voice carried no fear anymore.

Only anger.

And beneath that anger was a deep sense of betrayal.

"They promised us..." He coughed violently, causing more blood to spill from his mouth.

"They promised they would help us complete our trials."

His eyes became increasingly hateful.

"They told us that if we served the guild, contributed enough, and followed their orders, we would eventually receive the clues we needed."

The bitterness in his voice deepened with every word.

"Where are they?" Thoren asked again, not caring about his emotion or whatnot..

This time, there was a faint pressure in his voice.

The Director stared at him for several seconds before finally turning his head toward one of the distant passages.

"That bitch went that way."

Even though he knew the guild were merely using them but as one of the top executives he thought his fate would be different but who would have thought the woman would betray at the moment.

Just thinking of her betrayal made his stomach churned. He wished to get back on his feet and chase her and taught her the lesson of her life.

Unfortunately, he was slower than her.

Slowly, he raised his trembling hand and pointed toward the distant sea of bones.

"She took the western passage and headed toward the deeper region."

Thoren followed his finger with his eyes.

"How long ago?"

"Not long..."

"What about the Holy Son?"

The Director’s expression immediately darkened.

"I don’t know."

"You don’t know his plan?"

The man shook his head.

"None of us knew."

A bitter smile appeared on his bloodied face.

"We the three Directors were never told everything."

"We only followed orders."

His voice became increasingly weak.

"The Holy Son kept his real plan hidden from everyone, including us."

Thoren stared at him for several seconds.

The answer did not surprise him.

The Holy Son was evidently far more cautious than he had initially expected.

Even the highest-ranking members of the Slave Trade Guild stationed here knew nothing about the guild’s true objective.

That meant whatever they were planning was far more important than the lives of the people they had sacrificed.

"That’s all I know."

The Director slowly closed his eyes.

"I’ve told you everything."

Thoren looked down at him.

For a brief moment, the only sound that remained was the distant wailing of the ghosts surrounding the endless field of bones.

Then Thoren raised one hand.

Whoosh!

The bloody blade of the undead General flashed through the air and the Director’s head separated cleanly from his body.

Thud!

His lifeless body collapsed among the white bones while the ghostly wailing continued as though nothing had happened.

Thoren turned away from the corpse.

His silver hair moved gently in the cold wind while his deep blue eyes remained fixed on the direction the woman Director had taken.

And somewhere beyond this terrifying graveyard, the Slave Trade Guild was preparing something that even its own Directors had not been allowed to know.

A faint coldness appeared in Thoren’s deep blue eyes.

"Let’s go."