Global Survival: I Have Endless Skeletons-Chapter 187: Father… Mother…

Crack!

The undead servant grabbed one of the guards by the jaw and lifted him into the air as though he weighed nothing.

The man struggled frantically, his arms flailing as he tried to break free, but his efforts were utterly useless.

"Ahhhh!"

A horrifying scream tore from his throat.

Slowly, deliberately, the undead servant tightened its grip. Bone crunched under immense pressure. 𝑓𝘳𝘦𝑒𝑤𝑒𝘣𝘯ℴ𝘷𝘦𝓁.𝑐𝑜𝑚

The guard’s jaw shattered piece by piece in a slow, agonizing torment.

Blood burst forth, mixed with fragments of teeth and bone, splattering onto the ground below.

Beside him, the second guard stood frozen in place.

His entire body trembled violently. His heart pounded so loudly he could hear it echoing in his ears.

Every hair on his body stood on end.

He wanted to speak.

To shout.

To scream.

To threaten.

But the suffocating terror gripping him silenced every instinct.

A cold chill crept up his spine.

Slowly, he turned his head and met Thoren’s piercing gaze.

"Take us to your boss."

The words were calm.

Flat.

Emotionless.

Yet they carried an unquestionable authority.

This was not a request.

It was a command.

Like a puppet pulled by invisible strings, the guard nodded stiffly.

"Y-Yes..."

He swallowed hard, forcing down the lump in his throat before turning around and heading toward the building.

Thud!

Behind him, the undead servant tossed the mutilated guard aside like a broken log. The body hit the ground with a sickening sound.

Without another glance, the undead servants followed Thoren into the building.

At the entrance, the original gate guard stood rooted to the spot.

For a moment, his mind went blank.

Then, panic surged.

I need to get out of here.

I can’t stay...

He had seen it clearly.

He was considered strong, he believed they were untouchable, yet they been crushed like insects.

How could he possibly survive against such monsters?

His breathing grew erratic.

He would rather risk his life in the wild than remain here and face death.

Just as he turned to flee, a presence appeared behind him.

"...!"

His heart nearly stopped.

He felt it before he saw it.

A suffocating, deathly aura pressing against his back.

His entire body stiffened.

Sweat poured down his face.

He wanted to turn around.

To look.

But he couldn’t.

Fear rooted him in place.

"Damn it..." he muttered under his breath, gathering what little courage he had left.

He forced his legs to move.

One step.

Two.

And then, nothing.

His body froze completely.

’Move... move!’

He screamed internally.

’Why won’t my body listen?!’

A few meters away, in the middle of the road, a headless corpse stood upright for a brief moment, before collapsing.

Behind it stood a figure cloaked in black.

In its hand, a freshly severed head.

Thud!

The undead servant dropped the head carelessly onto the ground before turning and walking into the boss’s residence.

From the very beginning, Thoren had never intended to let anyone escape.

The moment he arrived...

Their fates had already been sealed.

Inside the main building, a fat man with salt-and-pepper hair lounged comfortably.

His greasy hands roamed shamelessly over the bodies of two beautiful women seated beside him.

They forced out soft moans under his rough handling.

On the floor, two naked women knelt with collars fastened around their necks, each attached to a leash.

One carefully fed him pieces of fruit.

The other poured his drink.

Creak.

The door suddenly opened.

The fat man frowned, irritation flashing across his face.

"Why are you barging in?" he snapped, his tone laced with annoyance.

But before the guard could respond, Thoren stepped inside.

"Is this your boss?" he asked calmly, even though he already knew the answer.

The guard nodded quickly. "Y-Yes... that’s him."

"Good."

Crack!

"Ah—!"

Before the guard could react, one of the undead servants moved.

Its hand shot forward, gripping his neck.

With a swift twist, his neck snapped.

Bang!

The lifeless body was thrown aside, crashing against the wooden wall.

Dead.

"...?!"

The fat man’s eyes widened in shock as he scrambled to his feet.

Fear flooded his face, washing away all traces of arrogance.

The women around him were instantly forgotten.

"M-Mister..." he stammered.

Cold sweat drenched his face, dripping down his temples. His lips trembled uncontrollably.

"S-Sir... what do you need?"

His instincts screamed at him.

The young man before him was not someone he could afford to offend.

The two black-robed figures behind him felt like incarnations of death itself.

One wrong word...

And he would die.

Thoren looked at him, his expression unchanged.

"My parents were brought here a few days ago," he said slowly. "Where are they? I’ve come to take them home."

The boss’s heart nearly stopped.

I’m finished...

He knew exactly how prisoners were treated here.

Worse than animals.

If those people were truly this young man’s parents...

He didn’t dare imagine the consequences.

Still, refusing to answer was not an option.

He took a shaky breath.

"Y-Young Sir... I don’t know exactly who your parents are," he said carefully. "But if they were brought here, they should be in the mine."

This was his only hope.

That once Thoren found them, he would lose interest in him.

"Very well," Thoren said with a nod. "Lead the way."

The boss quickly wiped the sweat from his forehead and hurried out of the building.

They moved toward the back of the village.

Behind it lay a massive open mine.

As they approached, the scene grew even more grim.

Groups of tattered men and women staggered out of the mine, their bodies thin and exhausted.

Guards stood nearby, holding whips.

Crack!

The sound of lashes echoed as they barked harsh commands, hurling insults and curses.

"Move faster!"

"Useless trash!"

"Don’t stop!"

"Boss!"

"Boss!"

When the guards noticed their leader approaching, they immediately straightened and greeted him with forced respect, their faces filled with sycophantic smiles.

The boss could only return a stiff, unnatural smile.

"Call all the prisoners out," he ordered.

"Boss?" one of the men hesitated. "That will slow down production. If you need anything, just tell us we can...."

"Shut up and do as I say!"

The sudden outburst stunned them.

"...Yes, Boss!"

They didn’t dare question him further.

Orders were quickly passed along.

"Call all the prisoners out immediately!"

Minutes later, hundreds of malnourished figures began emerging from the depths of the mine.

Their movements were sluggish.

Their faces hollow.

Their eyes devoid of hope.

They gathered slowly, forming a large, silent crowd.

Thoren’s gaze swept across them, and then, it stopped.

His body stiffened slightly.

Among the crowd, he saw two familiar figures.

Weaker.

Thinner.

Broken.

But unmistakable.

"...Father... Mother..."