Chapter 215: Ambush Goes Wrong.

The ground trembled violently, and a powerful vibration spread outward in every direction, sending waves of sand rising into the air like a storm. The desert itself seemed to roar with life as the tremor surged across the dunes.

“What is that?” one of the escaping bandits screamed as he looked over his shoulder, his voice cracking with fear.

The vibration was not slowing down. It was catching up to them at an alarming speed.

Ahhhh! Ahhhh!

Before any of them could fully understand what was happening, the ground beneath their feet erupted with force, and they were thrown off balance.

Their bodies tumbled across the sand, rolling helplessly as cries of pain and panic filled the air.

Some of them swallowed mouthfuls of sand without even realizing it. Their minds were overwhelmed by terror, and survival instinct took over.

They scrambled desperately, trying to get back on their feet.

Above them, shadows began to gather.

At first, the shapes were faint and indistinct, but within moments they became clear. The sky was filled with dark, winged figures descended over them.

They were the undead Starved Drakes.

Their wings cut through the air with chilling precision, and their hollow eyes burned with scary soul fire. Without hesitation, they dove toward the ground with terrifying speed.

“Get up!” someone shouted frantically.

The Fire Mage staggered to his feet and raised his trembling hands. Flames burst into existence as he cast his spell, sending a wave of fire toward the descending drakes.

Beside him, the Wind Mage reacted as well. He summoned a powerful gust that surged forward, attempting to push the creatures away.

But it was useless.

The undead Starved Drakes did not flinch.

“Do not fight them!” their leader shouted at the top of his lungs, his voice filled with desperation.

“We need to escape!”

However, even as he spoke those words, he knew the truth.

The endless desert stretched out in every direction, offering no shelter and no escape. The odds of survival were almost nonexistent.

A bitter thought crossed his mind.

Why did we choose a necromancer as our target?

Regret clawed at his chest like a living thing.

Boom!

The ground trembled again, even more violently than before. Another shockwave surged forward, knocking them off their feet once more.

Ahhh! Ahhh!

They crashed into the sand again, their bodies battered and their minds spiraling into chaos.

This time, many of them could not recover quickly enough.

The undead Starved Drakes descended upon them without mercy. Their claws tore through flesh, and their jaws snapped with lethal precision. Blood sprayed across the sand as screams echoed endlessly.

“Help me!”

“My arm!”

“Stay away from me!”

Their cries blended together into a horrifying symphony of despair.

Just when it seemed things could not get worse, it did.

From behind them, the undead legion arrived.

Figures emerged one after another, surrounding the bandits completely. Their movements were stiff yet relentless, and their hollow eyes burned with eerie soul fire.

Fear tightened around the bandits’ hearts like an iron grip.

“P Please do not kill us!” one of them begged, his voice trembling uncontrollably.

“Your Highness, spare me!” another cried, dropping his weapon in desperation.

“My king, I surrender!”

“Please, I have a wife!”

Their pleas grew louder and more frantic, but none of it mattered.

The undead legion did not hesitate.

They surged forward from all sides, overwhelming the bandits completely.

Ahhh! Ahhh!

“My chest!”

“No, do not come near me!”

Some of the bandits tried to fight back, swinging their weapons wildly in desperation. However, their resistance was meaningless against the sheer number of undead.

They were outmatched in every possible way.

Within less than two minutes, the battle was over.

The desert fell silent once more.

Bodies lay scattered across the sand, lifeless and broken. Many of the bandits died with their eyes wide open, filled with disbelief, regret, and unwillingness.

They had believed themselves to be hunters.

They thought they had found easy prey.

But they were wrong.

Terribly wrong.

Now they were nothing more than corpses in the sand.

As their lives faded, something strange happened.

The items stored within their inventories began to spill out onto the ground. Weapons, supplies, and various objects appeared.

Thoren stepped forward slowly, his expression calm but his eyes sharp.

He looked at the scattered items with clear surprise.

Now he understood.

On the first floor, this had never happened. Even after death, an awakener’s inventory remained intact and inaccessible.

But here, on the second floor, everything changed.

Death meant losing everything.

Without hesitation, Thoren gave a silent command to his undead servants.

They moved immediately, collecting the items one by one with mechanical efficiency.

There were weapons of various quality, dry rations packed in worn containers, Hemal Shards glowing faintly with life force, spare clothing, maps, and finally, money.

Thoren ignored the clothing entirely. It held no value to him.

Everything else, however, was carefully stored away.

Now that the Abyss Market was fully open to him, money had become more important than ever before.

Just then, a series of notifications appeared before his eyes.

[Experienced Gained +300]

[Summoned Entities: Experienced Gained +150]

[Level Up!]

[Level: 1 (670/500)]

[Unassigned Attributes Point +5]

[Level: 2 (170/1500)]

A faint smile appeared on Thoren’s face.

He had not expected such a result.

He had not expect some foolish people would throw their lives away so carelessly. They thought they were the hunter but they were wrong.

Too wrong.

They were the prey.

Without wasting time, he assigned all his attribute points to intelligence.

[Intelligence: 70 (+5) → 75]

His mind sharpened instantly, and his already powerful control over his undead grew even more refined.

Satisfied, he raised his hand slightly. The undead legion began to fade one by one, returning to the Undead Space.

Only two remained by his side.

The undead Storm Tyrant stood at the front like an unstoppable force, while the undead Royalty Stonewall guarded his rear like an immovable wall.

With them, Thoren felt no immediate threat. He reached into his inventory and pulled out a map.

His destination was set.

He would raid the Dune Scavenger village.

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