Global Survival: I Have Endless Skeletons

Thud! Thud!

Soft footsteps echoed in the still atmosphere. Soft groans and whispers echoed from the background.

The thick stench of blood was enough to deter anyone who was close to the scene. Lying on the ground were bodies cut to pieces.

Most bodies were not complete.

Some were split from head to torso while some had their arms shattered, their bone fragments scattered everywhere.

Some had their chests caved in, their ribs shattered to pieces.

Worst of all, their facial expressions were of those who had seen their worst nightmare.

Yet, in the midst of such a gory scene, a young man with silver hair and deep blue eyes walked calmly, unblemished by the chaos around him.

His robe was pristine.

His expression was calm, bordering on indifference.

He stopped before a burly young man lying on the ground, groaning in pain and holding his shattered arm.

The burly young man who was the team leader had lost all his previous bravado; now his face was filled with dread and despair.

"Now, will you tell me who you are?" Thoren asked calmly.

He was neither impatient nor eager to know who had sent them. Since they had appeared before him, there was no way they were going to keep the secret.

Even after death, he would still find out the truth.

Thus, he was merely trying to ask the living. If the living failed to respond, the dead would surely respond instead.

Trembling, the Berserker raised his head with some difficulty and stared into Thoren’s deep blue eyes.

Looking deep into his gaze, he realized the boy before him did not even take him seriously.

To him, he was nothing but a mere ant that could be squashed any time he wanted.

Realizing this, he could not help but chuckle.

’As expected of the Grim Reaper,’ he thought, amused by his own foolishness.

"I know my fate is sealed," he said slowly.

He had already given up on escaping from his clutches.

From the corner of his eyes, he saw the dozen undead servants behind Thoren and could not help but suck in a cold breath.

With such undead soldiers, how could anyone threaten him? He thought, and a deep sigh escaped his lips.

’I hope the guild will learn from what happened on the first floor. This person is not someone who can be antagonized,’ he mused, but he decided not to think about it any further.

He was about to die, so why should he concern himself with the guild? Their lives and deaths should have nothing to do with him.

Besides, if the Guild had not targeted the Grim Reaper, he would not be in his current situation.

He clicked his tongue in anger and spoke.

"You must have guessed who we are, but I will tell you. We are from the Slave Trade Guild," he said candidly.

As for the thought of hiding the truth from Thoren, such an idea never appeared in his mind.

Thoren was not surprised.

His expression did not falter nor change. He continued to stare at the Berserker with the same indifference.

"Second question. How do you know my location?"

This was the real question that was bugging him. Although he already had a guess in mind, it was not certain.

A guess was still just a guess.

He needed evidence before he went for the killing.

"Of course, one of your team members reported your location to our guild," he sneered. "You might not know this, but there was already a bounty on your head even before your arrival."

"The Slave Guild is not the only one after your life. I know of the Silver Crest Guild and the Federation as well," he revealed slowly, staring at Thoren’s face, hoping to see his mask crack.

But to his surprise, he found nothing.

"Why are you not surprised?" he could not help but ask with wide eyes.

Anyone who heard they were being targeted by three of the most powerful guilds should be scared.

Yet Thoren remained calm.

Recovering from his shock, he continued, but this time his voice was filled with slight taunting.

"I can guess why you are not scared. You still think this is the first floor," he said with a shallow laugh.

Hahahaa.

A shallow laughter escaped his lips. He could not help but pity Thoren in his mind.

"Do you know why humans can stay in the Jackal Beastmen town and not be hunted?" he asked, raising his brow.

"The Slave Guild has signed a treaty with the leader of the Jackal Beastmen. And do not think this is the only town they have signed a treaty with. There are many towns like that."

"In the Scorched Outskirt, you might not know the importance of the Beastmen towns, but when you enter the Bleeding Desert’s inner region, you will understand," he continued.

"So, each guild signs a peace treaty with the Beastmen, right?" Thoren asked casually.

"Yes. Isn’t that obvious? To grow stronger and have safe headquarters, each guild had to sign a peace treaty with the desert Beastmen," the Berserker replied.

"Is that why the Beastmen can treat humans like animals?" Thoren asked.

"Of course. The peace treaty only functions inside the town. Anything that happens outside the town has nothing to do with either party," he answered.

"Thus, humans must be careful not to be captured. Anyone captured can only blame their own bad luck," he finished with a bitter smile.

Thoren nodded in understanding. "So inside the city, the two parties will not target each other. Even if they treat each other like animals, is that right?"

"Yes," the Berserker nodded weakly. "This is the only compromise we humans could get. The Bleeding Desert is already unfavorable to us outsiders. So this is nothing but a blessing to us."

Listening to him, Thoren now understood the politics behind the Beastmen town.

Although the inhuman way humans were being treated by the Beastmen could not be worse, there was nothing anyone could do about it.

Since the desert was unfavorable to humans, this concession was enough to show human determination and the price they were willing to pay just to survive the second floor.

And this was only the second floor. What about the Third Floor, the Fourth Floor, and the others?

Perhaps the human race’s situation was even worse than this.

This only made him realize that the Abyss would do anything for the human race to fail, just like any other race before them.

"So who among the party revealed my location to your guild?" he asked, returning to the main question.

"I do not know," the Berserker shook his head. "Our informants never showed their faces. Even their voices are disguised, making it impossible to detect who they really are."

"Very well," Thoren nodded calmly. "Do you know any other town apart from this one?"

"No," he shook his head again. "From what I heard, the closest town is tens of miles from here, and the journey is fraught with danger."

"Hmm. So do you know the location of your headquarters?"

"How could I know that? I am nothing but a weak, low level Berserker. Only those in the inner region could know such important intelligence."

Thoren was not surprised by this answer.

If anyone in the guild could know the headquarters of such an evil organization, then they would not have existed until today.

Seeing that Thoren was quiet, the Berserker also kept his mouth shut.

’Is it possible he is going to let me go?’ he thought, his heart racing and filled with desperate hope.

’Perhaps he has had a change of heart.’

Although he had been prepared to die, if he was given a chance, he did not want to die.

Who truly wanted to die?

Not him.

Just as he was lost in his fantasy, a deep, heavy footstep broke him out of his thought.

Before he could raise his head, a shadow cast over his head, and all he could see was a massive hammer descending.

Boom!

The hammer struck with devastating force, ending the Berserker’s life in an instant.

His head exploded into pieces.

Brain shard scattered everywhere.

His body crumpled into the blood soaked ground, joining his fallen comrades.

Thoren did not flinch at the sound. He simply turned away from the gory scene.

He had learned what he needed to know. The Slave Trade Guild was hunting him, and someone within his temporary party was feeding them information.

That meant he could trust no one.

Not that he even trusts them to begin with. But this further reinforced his determination never to join any organization.

He looked around the chamber one last time. The Veinlurker Larvae had retreated into the sand, sensing that their prey was no longer present.

The altar stood silent and cracked.

Thoren straightened his pristine robe and walked toward the far end of the chamber.

His undead servants fell into formation behind him, their hollow eyes glowing in the darkness.

The ruin still held secrets, and he intended to find them.

Somewhere ahead, the remaining members of his so-called party were searching for treasure. One of them was a traitor.

Thoren smiled coldly. He would find that traitor soon enough.

And when he did, the Grim Reaper would collect another soul.

****

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