Chapter 49: Beneath the Coffin, the Abomination Arise.

Earlier

With the death of the first Level 14 Stonewall Tribe noble, the pressure on Thoren lessened noticeably.

The battle, which had previously felt like a desperate struggle against overwhelming force, suddenly tilted in his favor.

Without hesitation, Thoren raised one hand.

[Undead Summoning.]

A faint ripple spread across the stone floor.

The fallen Stonewall Tribe noble warrior, whose body had been cleaved apart moments earlier, began to tremble. Slowly, unnaturally, the shattered body pulled itself back together.

Bone scraped against stone.

The noble warrior rose to his feet.

Its hollow eyes ignited with pale yellow soul fire, burning steadily where life had once resided.

Traces of intelligence flickered behind that empty gaze, cold, obedient, and utterly loyal.

A translucent interface appeared before Thoren’s eyes.

[Undead Stonewall Tribe (Noble)]

[Level 14]

A faint smile tugged at the corner of Thoren’s lips.

“Good.”

He did not linger on the notification. The battle was still raging, and the remaining enemies were far from defeated.

“Kill,” Thoren commanded calmly.

The newly risen Level 14 undead noble turned without hesitation and charged back into the fray.

Even with one of their own turned against them, the five remaining Stonewall Tribe noble warriors fought ferociously.

Their movements were heavy yet precise, each spear strike carrying tremendous power.

However, the tide had already shifted.

Their bodies were riddled with wounds.

Cracks spread across their stone-like skin.

Chunks of hardened flesh had been torn away, exposing bone beneath.

Their movements slowed, ever so slightly, under the relentless assault of Thoren’s undead army.

Bang! Bang!

An undead Level 13 Stone Warrior slammed its massive sword into the chest of one noble, sending the warrior skidding backward across the chamber floor.

Before he could regain his balance, two Assassin Skeletons emerged from the shadows behind him.

Their blades flashed.

The noble warrior stiffened, then collapsed heavily onto the stone floor with a dull, final thud.

Moments later, dark energy surged again.

The fallen body twitched.

Cracks sealed.

Soul fire ignited.

Another undead rose.

One by one, the remaining Stonewall Tribe noble warriors fell.

And one by one, they joined Thoren’s undead army.

When the last noble collapsed and failed to rise again as an enemy, silence fell over the chamber.

The only sounds left were the faint crackling of soul fire and the slow, heavy breathing of the undead.

Thoren exhaled softly.

His gaze shifted toward the seventh coffin, the massive one positioned at the center of the chamber.

His eyes narrowed.

“This one is different,” he murmured.

The aura emanating from that coffin was far denser than the others. Even now, a faint pressure radiated from it, pressing against his senses like an invisible weight.

’This coffin must hold a special being,’ he thought.

Caution flickered across his eyes.

He did not approach recklessly.

Instead, Thoren gestured toward one of his strongest servants.

“Open it.”

A Level 14 undead Stonewall Tribe noble stepped forward and placed both hands against the massive coffin lid.

Whoosh!

The moment the lid shifted even an inch, a blur of motion erupted from within.

A massive claw shot out with terrifying speed.

Bang!

The undead noble was struck squarely in the chest and sent flying backward.

Its ribcage caved inward with a sickening crunch, stone fragments scattering across the floor. The soul fire in its eyes flickered violently, nearly extinguished.

Thoren’s brows furrowed.

“I knew it.”

He remained where he was, watching intently.

From within the coffin, a figure slowly rose.

It was a humanoid creature, taller and broader than the others. A single sharp horn protruded from its forehead, darker and more refined than those of the nobles.

Its presence alone caused the air to vibrate faintly.

The creature threw back its head and let out a low, furious howl.

Its gaze locked onto Thoren, the only living human in the chamber.

A notification appeared.

[Stonewall Tribe (High Noble)]

[Level 16]

Thoren inhaled sharply.

“Level sixteen…”

Yet even as the pressure washed over him, he frowned.

Something felt… off.

He’s strong, Thoren realized, but unstable.

The High Noble’s aura fluctuated wildly.

Cracks marred his stone-like flesh, and his movements, though powerful, lacked refinement.

He hasn’t fully recovered, Thoren concluded.

Confidence surged within him.

“With my undead army,” Thoren muttered, “this is more than enough.”

His lips curved into a faint, cold sneer.

“Attack.”

The command echoed through the chamber.

Instantly, hundreds of undead surged forward.

The Level 16 High Noble leapt from the coffin, roaring as he swung his claws wildly. Each strike obliterated weaker undead, sending bones and fragments flying.

But it wasn’t enough.

Six Level 14 undead Stonewall Tribe nobles closed in simultaneously, supported by three Level 13 Skeleton Knights.

The High Noble staggered.

Two seconds.

That was all he lasted.

Under the overwhelming assault, his body shattered, and he collapsed heavily onto the stone floor, unmoving.

Thoren stared at the fallen High Noble for a moment before grinning.

“Let’s see if you’ll serve me.”

[Undead Summoning.]

The moment the skill activated, pain exploded in Thoren’s mind.

“Gah…!”

He staggered, nearly losing his footing as a searing pressure assaulted his consciousness. The difference in level exacted a brutal toll on his mental strength.

Cold sweat drenched his back.

His vision blurred.

But Thoren gritted his teeth.

“Not… yet.”

He forced more energy into the summoning.

Slowly, agonizingly, the High Noble’s body twitched.

Stone scraped against stone as the massive corpse rose inch by inch.

Minutes passed.

Finally, the High Noble stood upright once more.

Thoren exhaled heavily, his chest heaving.

“Hah…”

Despite the exhaustion, a bright smile spread across his face.

Without hesitation, he summoned additional soul fire and pressed it into the High Noble’s skull.

The soul fire burned brighter than the others.

Sharper.

Smarter.

Traces of superior intelligence emerged in the undead’s expression.

Thoren laughed softly.

“With this… I can challenge high-level awakeners.”

His undead army was no longer composed of mere fodder.

High-level undead were beginning to accumulate.

Satisfied, Thoren turned his attention to the chamber.

“Now,” he whispered, “let’s see the reward.”

He searched every inch of the chamber thoroughly.

Nothing.

Disappointment flickered across his face.

Just as he was about to give up, his gaze returned to the seventh coffin.

He leaned closer and peered inside.

“What’s this?”

His eyes lit up.

Reaching inside, he retrieved a brown scroll.

A familiar interface appeared.

[Skill Scroll]

Thoren clenched his fist.

“Finally!”

Excitement surged through him. A skill scroll meant growth—true growth.

He searched the coffin again but found nothing else.

A slight disappointment surfaced, but he quickly suppressed it.

“This is more than enough.”

He stored the scroll in his inventory and turned to leave.

“Now… where’s the exit?”

As if answering him, his eyes landed on a narrow passage concealed behind the seventh coffin.

A faint smile returned.

“So… we’re going deeper.”

He withdrew most of his undead into his undead space, leaving only a handful of Level 7 and Level 8 guards.

Without hesitation, Thoren stepped forward and descended into the darkness below.

Bang! Bang!

The deafening sounds of battle thundered through the chamber, shaking the ground violently beneath everyone’s feet.

Cracks spread across the ancient stone floor as shockwaves rippled outward.

A thick, choking stench of blood saturated the air, clinging to every breath and making it difficult to breathe.

“Ahhhh—!”

“Help me! Please—!”

Miserable screams echoed endlessly, overlapping with desperate cries for help.

Panic, terror, and despair blended into a single, suffocating noise that clawed at the mind.

Inside the vast chamber, five humanoid creatures moved among the humans like incarnations of death itself.

Their figures were tall and twisted, their bodies lean yet powerful. Sharp claws extended from their fingers, gleaming with fresh blood. Wherever they passed, humans fell.

The creatures tore through their victims without hesitation.

A claw pierced a man’s chest.

Another ripped cleanly through a woman’s abdomen.

Hearts were torn free with brutal efficiency and devoured while they were still warm.

Blood dripped from their savage mouths, staining their chins and teeth. Instead of wiping it away, they licked it eagerly, their tongues dragging slowly across their lips in grotesque satisfaction.

Their eyes burned with feral light.

Hunger.

A desperate, maddening thirst for human blood.

They had been deprived for far too long.

And now, at last, they were feasting.

Whoosh!

The five creatures moved across the battlefield like blurs, their speed terrifying. Spells, arrows, and weapon strikes flew toward them, yet they evaded every attack with uncanny precision.

A slight tilt of the body, a subtle shift of the foot, and devastating blows passed harmlessly through empty air.

“No—no! Don’t come near me!”

A Level 14 Spell Caster screamed in terror as he stumbled backward. His face was twisted with dread, his eyes wide and bloodshot.

Gone was the pride and arrogance of a high-level awakener. What remained was a trembling man on the verge of collapse.

“H-help me… someone help me!”

His voice cracked as he cried out, but not a single person turned to look at him.

Everyone was struggling desperately to cling to their own lives.

At this moment, survival was all that mattered.

The young spell caster raised his staff with shaking hands and tried to chant a spell. His heart pounded violently in his chest, each beat echoing loudly in his ears. His breathing was ragged, uneven, and his trembling lips failed to form coherent words.

The spell fizzled.

Before he could react.

Whoosh!

One of the humanoid creatures appeared before him like a phantom.

The man barely had time to scream.

A claw slashed across his neck, tearing through flesh and bone in a single smooth motion. Blood sprayed into the air as the creature lifted him effortlessly off the ground, holding him inches from its face.

The man’s eyes widened in agony and disbelief.

With a slow, cruel smile, the creature plunged its other claw into his chest.

The smile widened.

It savored the moment.

With a wet, tearing sound, it ripped the man’s heart free.

The spell caster let out a broken, guttural cry before his body went limp.

The creature placed the heart into its mouth and chewed slowly, deliberately, as if enjoying the finest delicacy in the world. Blood ran down its chin as it swallowed.

Thud!

The lifeless body was tossed aside like garbage.

The creature’s gaze shifted immediately to its next prey.

In the span of less than a minute, nearly twenty humans had entered the chamber.

Now, only seven remained.

Bodies littered the ground, broken, torn apart, and mutilated beyond recognition. The stone floor was slick with blood, making it difficult to stand without slipping.

Among the remaining survivors was a burly young man—the same one who had taunted Thoren outside the ancient gate.

“I—I don’t want to die… I can’t die!”

He screamed hoarsely, his voice filled with panic and desperation. Veins bulged along his neck as he gathered all the strength left in his body and swung his heavy axe with both hands.

Bang!

One of the creatures blocked the attack with a single arm.

The collision sent a violent shock through the man’s body. He was thrown backward, skidding across the blood-soaked floor. His muscles spasmed uncontrollably, his hands numb as the axe nearly slipped from his grip.

Fear wrapped tightly around his heart like an iron vice.

His mind went blank.

’I’m going to die.’

Just as the creature prepared to finish him, its movement suddenly halted.

The burly man froze as well, his breath hitching.

His eyes shifted toward the center of the chamber.

With a grinding sound, one of the sealed entrances slowly opened.

Darkness spilled outward.

From within, a young man stepped forward calmly—his expression cold and composed.

Behind him, undead figures emerged one by one, their hollow eyes burning with pale soul fire.

Silence fell over the battlefield.

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