Chapter 50: A Savior Made of Bones

Thoren stood at the edge of the shattered chamber, watching the carnage unfold with an expressionless face.

Blood soaked the ancient stone floor, pooling in cracks and grooves carved by time. Broken bodies lay scattered in grotesque positions, limbs twisted at unnatural angles, faces frozen in terror.

The metallic stench of blood clung heavily to the air, thick enough to taste with every breath.

Yet none of it stirred Thoren’s emotions.

The desperate situation of the awakeners, their screams and pleas, the way their lives were snuffed out one after another did not shock him in the slightest.

After all, this outcome had been inevitable.

If the first chamber alone had housed Level 14 Stonewall Tribe noble warriors and even a Level 16 High Noble, how could the lower levels possibly be any safer?

This place was never meant to be survived by the weak.

“P-Please… help me…”

A trembling female voice broke through the chaos.

Thoren’s gaze shifted.

A Level 13 Lancer staggered backward, barely managing to remain on her feet.

Her leather armor had been torn open by a vicious claw strike, leaving a deep, bleeding wound across her chest.

Blood dripped steadily down her torso, soaking into the floor beneath her boots.

Her spear trembled violently in her hands.

Spiderweb-like cracks covered its shaft, the weapon on the verge of collapsing entirely.

Her pale face was slick with sweat, and her eyes were filled with despair so raw it bordered on madness.

The moment she spoke, the fragile balance of the battlefield shattered.

A low, guttural growl echoed through the chamber.

Whoosh!

The Level 16 High Noble Stonewall Warrior moved.

“N-No—!”

She cried out as panic seized her.

Desperation flooded her veins, and she retreated frantically, gathering the last remnants of strength left in her body.

“Gust Slash!”

She thrust her spear forward.

The air screamed as compressed wind surged outward in a violent arc, slicing through the space between them at breathtaking speed.

Bang!

The High Noble casually raised one massive claw and slapped the attack aside like he was twatting a fly.

The wind blade shattered instantly, dispersing into nothingness. The force of the impact sent the lancer stumbling backward.

Her cracked spear exploded into fragments that scattered across the chamber.

She slammed into the stone wall with a dull thud.

Pain exploded through her body.

Her vision blurred.

’This is the end…’

Tears streamed down her face as despair consumed her heart.

Unbeknownst to her, she was far from the only one teetering on the brink of death.

Several meters away, the burly young man who had once arrogantly taunted Thoren lay sprawled across the blood-soaked ground.

A deep claw gash tore through his shoulder, exposing bone beneath shredded flesh.

Blood poured from his wound like a broken dam.

He groaned weakly, clutching at the injury with trembling hands.

He had done everything he could.

A Level 14 Berserker with a D-Rank Talent, his ability had once been a source of pride.

While inferior on paper, it allowed him to outlast even some C-Rank talent under the right conditions.

That talent had kept him alive.

That talent had made his party grow rapidly over the past few months.

But here?

It was meaningless.

Utterly useless.

A few meters away, one of the humanoid creatures lifted a green-haired boy into the air as if he weighed nothing at all. The boy’s eyes widened in terror as he opened his mouth to beg.

The creature did not give him the chance.

Its claw plunged directly into the boy’s chest.

Ahhh!

The scream cut off abruptly as the creature ripped his heart free. The boy’s face instantly went slack, all life draining from his eyes.

The creature raised the still-beating heart toward its mouth, tongue flicking across its lips in anticipation.

Then.

A piercing shriek tore through the chamber.

But it was not human.

It was feral.

Savage.

Animalistic.

Instantly, all four humanoid creatures froze.

Their heads snapped toward the source.

So did the remaining awakeners, who had already resigned themselves to death.

What they saw made their hearts tremble.

Hundreds of undead surged into the chamber like a black tide.

Level 10 undead warriors poured in from every direction, surrounding one of the humanoid creatures completely.

Skeletons clattered forward with relentless determination, while undead Mad Dogs lunged with snapping jaws and flashing claws.

Towering over them all was the Undead Mad Dog Mistveil Mini Boss.

It stood like a small giant, its massive frame radiating deathly intent. Its roar shook the chamber as it charged forward.

Each swipe of its claws tore through the air itself, forcing the humanoid creature back step by step.

A Level 13 Knight Skeleton, clad in heavy armor, advanced with a massive broadsword resting on its shoulder.

Beside it marched an Undead Level 14 Stonewall Warrior, its presence exuding crushing pressure.

They did not hesitate.

They did not fear death.

They attacked with absolute intent.

In less than thirty seconds, the once-dominant humanoid creature was covered in wounds. Deep gashes crisscrossed its body, dark blood pouring freely onto the floor.

It howled in fury, eyes blazing with rage.

Swinging its claws in a wide arc, it sent dozens of weaker undead flying. Bones shattered.

Undead flesh was torn apart.

But its struggle was futile.

A massive broadsword slammed directly into its chest.

Bang!

The impact caved in its torso, forcing it to stagger backward violently. Blood erupted from the wound as its balance faltered.

Before it could recover.

Bang! Bang!

Two Level 14 Stonewall Warrior undead that had been lying in waiting attacked simultaneously.

Their spears pierced straight through its body, emerging from its front in a spray of blood.

A soul-rending scream erupted from the creature’s throat.

The savage ferocity vanished from its face, replaced entirely by terror.

It struggled weakly, life draining rapidly from its body.

Then two more attacks landed.

Thud!

The creature collapsed to the ground, lifeless.

Silence.

It had taken less than a minute and one of the five deadly humanoid creatures was already killed.

Thoren remained calm, his expression unchanged. Inwardly, however, satisfaction stirred as experience notifications flooded his vision.

Without hesitation, he shifted his attention to the remaining four.

They were already staring at him.

Compared to every human awakener they had slaughtered so far, Thoren was different.

Dangerous.

Deadly.

As if sensing this, the four abandoned their prey and turned fully toward him.

They began to move.

Thoren did not flinch.

Everything was already calculated.

With a thought, he summoned two hundred undead warriors from his undead space.

The chamber was instantly filled with undead.

Their hollow, soulless eyes burned with pale light, sending shivers down the spines of the surviving awakeners.

The weakest among them was Level 10.

The humanoid creatures roared and charged.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

They plunged into the undead army, unleashing a massacre of their own.

Shattered bones flew through the air.

Flesh from undead Mad Dogs rained down.

The chamber descended into utter chaos.

The battle was nerve-shattering.

Yet as the awakeners watched in frozen disbelief, only one thought echoed in their minds.

’Scary!’

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