Global Survival: I Have Endless Skeletons

Thoren looked at Neville rushing forward and slowly walked after him. Quickly, Neville entered one of the wooden booths without any hesitation.

"Captain, where are...?" he called out into the darkness.

Ah!

Before he could finish speaking, his voice was abruptly cut off, and his figure vanished into the booth as if swallowed by the shadows.

Hmm?

Seeing this strange occurrence, Thoren halted in his tracks and creased his brow deeply. Slowly, his expression turned grave and alert.

"Neville, are you there?" he asked, staring at the booth with apprehension crawling up his spine.

For a long moment, there was no response at all. Everything was eerily, unnaturally quiet. The silence that bites deep into someone’s bones and makes the heart race.

Without hesitation, Thoren commanded his undead servant to step forward. The undead unsheathed its blade, ready to strike at any threat.

Thud! Thud!

The undead servant approached the booth with slow, heavy steps that echoed like a death knell. Thoren held his breath and locked his gaze on the booth’s dark entrance.

Just then, the door to the booth was pushed open from inside, and Neville walked out smiling warmly.

"Sorry about that," he chuckled softly. "I thought I heard the captain’s voice calling for help."

"Let us continue our search," he added casually.

However, Thoren did not respond. His deep blue eyes stared intently at the Neville standing before him, searching for any sign of deception.

’Something is wrong,’ he thought, his expression turning grim and cold.

His instinct was screaming of danger from every direction.

Even though his instinct was warning him, he could not pinpoint exactly what was wrong with the man before him.

"What happened? Are you not going to move again?" Neville asked casually, wearing the same harmless smile on his face.

"What did you see inside the booth?" Thoren asked, his voice low and measured.

"Nothing at all," Neville replied with a shrug. "It was completely empty and filled with nothing but dirt and dust."

"Can I see it for myself?" Thoren asked, his tone making it clear he did not believe a single word.

"Why would you do that? Do you think I am lying to you?" Neville’s smile faltered for just a moment.

For a long moment, a thick, suffocating tension hung between the two men. Neville stared at Thoren with a harmless expression, while Thoren did not share the same friendly look.

"Fine. If you want to check it yourself, be my guest," Neville shrugged, stepping aside from the door.

Even though everything seemed fine on the surface, Thoren did not let his guard down for even a second.

He commanded his undead servant to enter the booth and investigate.

Creak!

The undead servant pushed the wooden door open wider but did not step inside immediately.

With the door fully opened, Thoren had the chance to see what was inside the booth. But to his surprise, he found nothing but impenetrable darkness staring back at him.

He tried to probe the interior with his perception but found nothing at all. He squinted and stared at the unbothered Neville, and the corner of his lips curled upward into a cold smile.

’Destroy it,’ he commanded his undead servant through the mental link.

Without any hesitation, the undead servant raised its weapon high and struck the booth with tremendous force.

Bang! Bang!

"What are you doing?" Neville screamed, his expression turning ugly and twisted.

"Stop this madness now," he shouted, his voice rising with panic.

"This might cause an irreversible problem for us. Have you forgotten how dangerous this ruin truly is?" His expression was serious and almost believable.

However, Thoren had no intention of stopping his undead servant from its task.

The wooden booth shook vehemently under the assault, on the brink of falling apart completely.

Seeing this, Neville could not maintain his friendly facade any longer.

He unsheathed his sword and attacked the undead servant with savage fury.

"Die!" Neville screamed, his expression turning completely savage and inhuman.

His previous usual calm and approachable smile was gone, replaced by pure hatred.

Watching his sudden violent action, Thoren was not surprised in the least.

"I knew something was wrong," Thoren whispered under his breath, his voice cold as ice.

Bang! Bang!

Neville clashed with the undead servant, veins protruding on his forehead like writhing worms. Each strike was clearly going for a killing blow.

However, Thoren was not worried about his servant. His undead was not one to be easily killed.

Besides, he was not going to wait like a fool for Neville to destroy his undead servant.

"Now, let us test the Sanguine," he whispered, and he summoned the undead Sanguine Vulture from his undead space.

The undead Sanguine Vulture appeared beside him for a single moment, its red feathers glistening, and then it vanished into the shadows.

Everything happened in only two seconds, giving Neville no chance to understand what was going on around him.

"Die! Die!" Neville screamed with enraged fury.

"How dare you try to destroy it," he howled.

"I am going to kill all of you," he muttered with a voice dripping with venom.

The aura around him had changed completely, twisted into an evil, oppressive energy that made the air grow cold.

However, he seemed not to care about his transformation. He continued to strike the undead servant continuously, pushing the servant backward with each blow.

Without the sturdy armor beneath the undead servant’s robes, it would have long been pulverized into pieces.

Just as Neville prepared to deliver another killing blow, a red dot appeared in his vision. Before he could react to the warning, something moved.

Whoosh!

Something whistled past his body at impossible speed.

The creature was so fast that he had no time to react or defend himself.

Thud!

Something heavy fell to the ground with a wet thud.

Neville froze in his action and slowly lowered his head. On the floor, his right arm lay in a spreading pool of dark, thick liquid.

The dark liquid gushed out of the severed spot on his shoulder. Neville only froze for a single moment before he bent down and picked up his severed arm as if it were nothing.

Picking up his severed arm, he reattached it back to his body as if the injury was meaningless.

Thoren watched everything unfold with a solemn, grim expression.

"You are not Neville," Thoren said slowly, his voice steady.

"If I am not him, then what am I?" the fake Neville asked with a twisted smile. Then he rushed toward Thoren with blinding speed.

His expression twisted into something bloodthirsty and savage. However, he only took two steps before the red dot appeared on his vision again.

"Get lost!" he screamed and swung his blade wildly.

Whoosh!

The undead Sanguine Vulture evaded the attack with effortless ease and struck back.

Its sharp feathers moved at breathtaking speed, cutting cleanly through the neck of the fake Neville, and then it vanished again into the darkness.

Thud! Thud!

The head rolled from the neck to the ground, its eyes still filled with the same savage killing intent, still blinking.

"Do not think this is over," the severed head said slowly, its lips moving, before it dissolved into a pool of dark, bubbling liquid.

The headless body of the fake Neville fell to the ground, and its form changed. It twisted and morphed into a dark, terrible creature with dozens of writhing tentacles.

Looking at the tentacles, Thoren could not help but suck in a cold breath of pure horror.

[Whispering Confessor]

However, before he could check the other parts of its terrifying stats, the previously quiet booths around him began to shake violently.

Something was awakening.

****

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