Global Survival: I Have Endless Skeletons-Chapter 74: The End No One Expected.
Bang! Bang!
The Ghost Scream Boss collided head-on with the three Level 14 stonewall undead.
His twin daggers moved in a deadly blur, slicing through the air and producing sharp, whistling cries as they cut forward with lethal precision.
Yet.
The undead met his assault directly.
Defense had never been etched into their command chains. They did not dodge. They did not retreat. They did not hesitate.
Their massive stone spears surged forward with equal precision, moving in perfect synchronization as if guided by a single will.
"Silent Shadow Slash!"
The boss roared, deploying another skill without restraint.
Darkness clung to his daggers as they blended seamlessly with the surrounding shadows.
For a brief instant, the weapons vanished entirely, leaving no trace of their path until they reached their targets.
Bang! Bang!
The blades struck true.
They plunged deep into one of the undead servants, shattering several ribs and cracking hardened bone beneath the stone armor.
But the undead did not flinch.
Its hollow eye sockets burned brighter, soul fire roaring silently as it stared straight at him, unblinking, unyielding.
Before the boss could fully process what he was seeing, a terrifying punch slammed into his chest.
Bang!
"Ah—!"
He was sent flying backward, boots skidding across the blood-soaked ground as blood surged up his throat. The metallic taste flooded his mouth, sharp and nauseating.
He gagged.
For a split second, he almost vomited but he swallowed it back forcefully.
He could not afford to look weak.
Not here.
Not in front of everyone.
Unknown to him, it would not have mattered.
His fate had already been sealed the moment this battle began.
"Ahhh!"
"Ahhhhh—!"
A miserable scream erupted to his left.
The boss’s head snapped toward the sound, and his pupils shrank violently.
One of his captains lay sprawled on the ground, his weapon discarded several feet away.
A deep gash tore across his waist, blood pouring out uncontrollably like water from a shattered dam.
His left arm was completely shattered. Jagged bone protruded through torn flesh, hanging uselessly at an unnatural angle.
His right leg was no better.
A vicious cut split it open, exposing pale bone beneath mangled muscle.
Yet his eyes were not on his weapon.
They were locked onto the figure advancing toward him.
A hooded undead.
The same one.
The same monstrous figure that had tortured his teammates to death earlier.
"No...no...!"
"GET AWAY FROM ME!"
His voice cracked, raw and hoarse, filled with pure, unfiltered despair.
He tried to crawl backward, dragging his broken body across the ground, but his shattered limbs made escape impossible.
Thud.
Thud.
The sickening sound of heavy footsteps echoed, one after another, deliberate and merciless.
The undead was closing in.
"HELP!"
"I DON’T WANT TO DIE!"
"AHHHHH—!"
The undead lifted its foot and brought it down.
Crack!
It stomped directly onto his kneecap. The bone shattered instantly.
His scream tore through the battlefield like a blade, sending shivers down the spines of everyone watching.
They could only stare in horror as the undead continued.
Slow.
Methodical.
Cruel.
Bone after bone was crushed, broken apart with deliberate force, as if the undead were sculpting suffering itself.
When there were no bones left to break, the captain had already lost consciousness.
Silence followed.
Many had always believed the abyss to be the most terrifying existence in the world.
But as they looked at the young man calmly commanding an undead legion; they felt the abyss was merciful by comparison.
Around the battlefield, several bounty hunters who had once hunted Thoren Starfall trembled.
Some clasped their hands together unconsciously.
Others bowed their heads.
Prayers escaped their lips.
They thanked their luck.
They thanked fate.
Now, they finally understood how insane Thoren Starfall truly was.
More importantly, they understood something else.
This was not a random slaughter.
This was a statement.
A warning.
A message carved in blood and bone.
And everyone understood it perfectly.
While many bounty hunters silently rejoiced that they had never crossed paths with him, the Ghost Scream Boss was drowning in regret.
All of this for a reward of merely one thousand copper coins.
In pursuit of that paltry sum, he had lost everything he had built over an entire year.
He had always been cautious. Always avoided unnecessary risks.
That was why his progress had been slow but steady.
That was why he was still alive...until now.
He had believed Thoren was like any other bounty issued by the Federation.
Easy prey.
Quick money.
So he thought.
Now.
Bang! Bang!
A spear thrust toward him.
He barely managed to parry the attack before another came crashing in from his left.
He twisted his body and leaned backward desperately.
The spear missed his throat by less than an inch.
Yet there was no relief on his face.
His arms trembled.
His strength was fading.
His mana reserves were nearly exhausted.
Screams echoed all around him, but he did not dare look.
Right now, only one thing remains in his mind.
Survival.
Even that hope was dangerously thin.
Through the chaos, he realized something that made his blood run cold.
The undead had already sealed every escape route.
There was nowhere to run.
If he wanted to live, he would have to fight his way out.
Just as he prepared to launch another desperate attack, a sudden presence erupted behind him.
Danger!
His instincts screamed in warning.
He twisted his body instinctively, attempting to evade but it was too late.
Bang!
A brutal punch slammed into his back.
Ribs shattered instantly.
Blood sprayed from his mouth as he stumbled forward, his vision blurring as his face drained of color.
His heart pounded violently against his chest like a war drum.
"What... what is this...?"
He shook his head, struggling to clear the pain.
And then he saw it.
The hooded undead.
Standing before him.
For a moment, a thick, deafening silence engulfed the battlefield.
All Ghost Scream Bounty Hunters were dead.
Every last one.
Their captains had died slowly, their bones crushed in agonizing torment.
And now, only their leader remained.
Surrounded.
Watching his desperate struggle, many spectators could not help but shake their heads.
They had come expecting to witness the fall of an evil necromancer.
Instead, they had witnessed a massacre they would never forget for the rest of their lives.
Rather than Thoren falling, the Ghost Scream Bounty Hunters had been hunted down.
One by one.
And they had died in the most painful ways imaginable.
And now.
"Ahhhhh!"
The Ghost Scream Boss let out a guttural scream as a spear plunged deep into his waist.
He staggered backward, face contorted with terror.
Fear and panic were etched unmistakably across his features.
He looked around wildly, searching for allies.
Friends.
Anyone.
But wherever his gaze landed, people turned away.
Some avoided eye contact.
Others stepped back.
The message was clear.
He had been abandoned.
"Hahahaha..."
A manic laugh escaped his bloodied lips.
So this was reality.
He had thought everyone hated necromancers.
But he was wrong.
People did not hate necromancers.
They hated weak ones.
And against a monster like Thoren Starfall, no one was willing to risk their lives.
As for the Federation Police.
He was not naive.
He knew how corrupt they were.
His death meant nothing to them.
Regret flooded his heart.
He cursed his greed.
He cursed his arrogance.
Unfortunately.
There was no pill for regret.
"I know... I can’t escape..." he muttered, blood pouring from his mouth.
"But I’ll be damned if I let you torture me..."
Before anyone could react, he raised his dagger.
And slit his own throat.
Blood sprayed like a fountain.
His body dropped to its knees with a sickening thud.
Moments later, his head struck the blood-soaked ground.
His eyes stared lifelessly ahead.
Silence fell.
The air itself seemed frozen.
No one moved.
No one spoke.
No one had expected this.
A Level 15 hunter was forced to commit suicide.
Emotions twisted inside the crowd.
Fear.
Hatred.
Awe.
Many glared at Thoren from the shadows, daring not to utter a single word.
Just when everyone believed it was over, Thoren spoke.
"You thought death meant the end..."
"You are mistaken."
[Undead Summoning.]
[Bone Manipulation.]
At once, the dead answered his call.
The fallen Ghost Scream Boss twitched.
Then.
He rose.
A wave of dread washed over everyone present.
This is a demon...
Even in death, he doesn’t allow rest...
My goodness...
Thoren paid no attention to the gazes fixed upon him.
He turned and walked away.
His footsteps were slow.
Casual.
Behind him, the undead servants followed obediently. Their figures burned into everyone’s memories forever.
