Looking at the hundreds of Dust Naga corpses scattered across the staircase, Thoren creased his brow slightly. Blood still flowed slowly through the stone steps while shattered flesh and broken bones remained piled everywhere.

"Now that I am poor, I cannot afford to be picky," he thought inwardly.

Without hesitation, he commanded the undead servants to begin gathering the Dust Naga corpses immediately.

He intended to sell every single one of them through the Abyssal Market.

Back when he still possessed abundant wealth, he had been too lazy to bother collecting and selling beast corpses personally. To him, such profits had once seemed insignificant.

Now, however, things have changed completely.

He no longer possessed the luxury of wasting resources.

The only reason he had managed to reverse the battle earlier was because he equipped his undead servants with Peak Bronze grade shields. Without those shields, the Dust Naga horde would have overwhelmed him eventually.

Because of this realization, he refused to miss any opportunity to earn additional coins.

Hundreds of undead servants moved simultaneously throughout the battlefield.

Their actions were swift and efficient.

The undead gathered severed serpent heads, shattered body parts, and intact corpses without pause before stacking everything neatly before Thoren.

One after another, Thoren transferred the corpses directly into the Abyssal Market.

At this point, he no longer cared much about the exact price of each body. Any profit was better than nothing.

However, to his surprise, the prices remained somewhat acceptable.

Complete Dust Naga corpses earned between thirty and forty silver coins each. Severely damaged corpses were still sold for five to twenty silver coins depending upon their condition.

Although the individual profits appeared small, the overwhelming quantity of corpses compensated heavily for the reduced value.

Still, as Thoren continued selling more and more corpses, he quickly noticed something frustrating.

The prices were dropping continuously.

And they were dropping fast.

"This bastard…" Thoren cursed beneath his breath while gritting his teeth angrily.

The Abyssal Market had already offered low prices from the beginning, yet it still continued reducing the value even further the more he sold.

For a brief moment, Thoren felt the urge to curse whatever mysterious entity controlled the Abyssal Market itself.

However, he forcefully suppressed the impulse.

"At least I am still making profit," he muttered while trying to console himself.

After nearly one full hour of nonstop work, every single Dust Naga corpse had finally been sold successfully.

In total, he earned slightly over one thousand gold coins.

Looking at the amount before him, Thoren's expression turned complicated momentarily before a long sigh escaped from his lips.

To the ordinary awakened, one thousand gold coins represented enormous wealth.

However, for someone constantly maintaining and strengthening an undead army of this scale, the amount barely felt sufficient.

Peak Bronze grade equipment alone consumed horrifying amounts of money.

Shaking his head lightly, Thoren forced himself to stop dwelling upon the matter.

There was no point complaining.

At the very least, he had earned some money.

Slowly, his expression returned to its usual cold and indifferent calm.

Thoren stepped toward the edge of the staircase before lowering his gaze downward.

The endless stairs stretched deep into the darkness below like a path descending directly toward the center of the earth itself.

The sight felt oppressive.

Unsettling.

Almost unnatural.

Yet…

"Proceed," Thoren ordered calmly.

The undead shield soldiers immediately took the lead while marching downward in perfect mechanical synchronization.

Each undead servant carried its heavy Peak Bronze grade shield effortlessly as though the massive defensive equipment weighed absolutely nothing.

A normal human would have collapsed from exhaustion after surviving such a brutal battle and descending countless stairs continuously.

However, undead creatures possessed no such weakness.

They felt no exhaustion.

No pain.

No fear.

As long as they remained intact, they could continue moving forever.

Slowly, the undead army descended deeper into the underground staircase that resembled an endless labyrinth created specifically to confuse and trap intruders.

The Illusory Floating Lantern drifted silently above the formation while illuminating the surrounding darkness with pale ghostly light.

Under its eerie glow, the suffocating darkness retreated quickly.

Yet despite the illumination, the deeper they descended, the heavier the atmosphere became.

The silence itself felt wrong.

Oppressive.

After descending several hundred more stairs, Thoren and his undead army finally arrived before an enormous sanctum hidden deep underground.

The chamber measured nearly sixty feet in diameter.

The interior walls and floor were engraved with a massive star chart unlike anything Thoren had ever seen before.

However, every single star within the chart had been depicted as a skull instead of a celestial body.

The countless skull symbols stretched across the entire sanctum like some ancient omen left behind by forgotten horrors.

At the center of the floor rested a large circular brass plate inlaid with seven concentric rings of strange cuneiform symbols.

The ancient symbols appeared worn yet strangely intact despite the countless years that must have passed underground.

Sand had accumulated heavily against the far walls of the sanctum.

Yet strangely, the very center remained perfectly clean.

Not a single grain of dust rested upon the brass plate.

Watching the scene before him, Thoren unconsciously held his breath.

His expression gradually became grave.

The numerous skull shaped stars resembled some sort of warning.

Or perhaps a ritual.

His gaze shifted toward the spotless center once more.

A deep frown appeared across his face.

"How is the center still clean?" he wondered inwardly.

His confusion deepened rapidly.

At the very least, some dust should have accumulated there naturally over time. Yet the surface remained perfectly spotless as though someone maintained it regularly.

More importantly, this was not what he expected at all.

After fighting through endless Dust Naga and descending into such terrifying depths, Thoren had anticipated encountering a massive beast or some horrifying guardian.

Instead, he found silence.

An unnatural silence.

The sanctum remained completely still.

Too still.

It felt as though the chamber itself stared back at him silently while daring him to step forward recklessly.

The atmosphere inside the sanctum grew increasingly heavy and suffocating.

Every corner radiated invisible pressure.

Everything remained motionless as though waiting patiently for someone foolish enough to trigger whatever slumbered within its depth.

Thoren knitted his brows deeply together.

"I have already come this far. Turning back now is impossible," he thought firmly.

A sharp glint flashed through his eyes immediately afterward.

"Move," he commanded calmly.

Thud! Thud! Thud!

The heavy footsteps of the undead servants echoed throughout the silent sanctum repeatedly.

The sounds resembled war drums announcing their presence directly toward the ancient chamber itself.

Thoren walked calmly at the center of the undead formation while maintaining absolute vigilance.

At the same time, he commanded all the undead Echo Scarabs to release continuous sound vibrations throughout the sanctum in order to detect hidden creatures.

Hum! Hum! Hum!

Invisible vibrations spread rapidly throughout the chamber.

Yet nothing responded.

To ensure additional safety, Thoren continuously shook the Choir Bell Charm while advancing slowly.

Ting! Ting! Ting!

The soul piercing bell echoes spread throughout the sanctum repeatedly.

Still, nothing happened.

The undead Echo Scarabs detected absolutely nothing hidden nearby.

Likewise, the Choir Bell Charm produced no visible reaction whatsoever.

Everything appeared completely empty.

Yet the strange feeling within Thoren's instincts only intensified further.

His gut screamed repeatedly that something remained terribly wrong.

This calm atmosphere felt artificial.

False.

An illusion hiding unseen danger.

Even though he sensed this deeply, Thoren had already exhausted nearly every available method to uncover whatever hid within the shadows.

Then suddenly, the ground beneath his feet shifted violently.

The solid floor transformed soft instantly beneath him.

Before Thoren could react properly, an overwhelming force erupted upward from below and blasted him violently into the air.

While airborne, Thoren instinctively looked downward.

The moment he saw what emerged beneath the sanctum floor, his eyes widened violently toward their limits.

****

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