Chapter 73: The Devil They Invited

Silence.

An unnatural, suffocating silence spread across the battlefield the moment Thoren’s words left his lips.

Everyone stood frozen, their minds struggling to process what they had just heard.

In the midst of such a deadly confrontation when blood stained the ground and screams still echoed faintly in the air, he had casually called the Ghost Scream Bounty Hunter boss stupid.

No fear.

No hesitation.

No restraint.

“What did you just say?” the boss asked slowly, his voice low and dripping with menace.

His eyes were bloodshot, veins bulging as fury surged uncontrollably through his veins.

The humiliation burned hotter than any wound.

In front of so many witnesses, guild members, bounty hunters, and awakeners alike.

He had been openly mocked.

Rage consumed him.

With a sharp metallic sound, he unsheathed his twin daggers and launched himself forward. Killing intent poured from his body like a raging storm.

Although his movements appeared deceptively calm, his speed was terrifying.

Whoosh!

He crossed the distance in an instant, his figure blurring as his daggers slashed forward.

Schreesh!

Undead stonewall warriors fell one after another beneath his cold, merciless blades. His daggers moved too fast for ordinary eyes to track, leaving nothing but streaks of silver light and shattered bones in their wake.

Before him, the undead seemed powerless.

Behind him, the remaining captains of the Ghost Scream Bounty Hunters also unleashed their full strength, charging into the thinning undead formation.

“My goodness… I can’t even follow his movements!” someone gasped from the crowd.

“I knew it,” another exclaimed. “High-level awakeners are monsters entirely different from the rest of us.”

“Is… is this the end for him?”

No one answered.

All eyes were glued to the boss’s terrifying killing spree as undead fell in rapid succession.

No matter how relentlessly they pressed forward, they were torn apart with ruthless efficiency.

Against overwhelming power, numbers meant nothing.

“I’ll show everyone how pathetic you are, even with all your undead minions!” the boss roared as he severed the arm of one undead and finished it with a swift strike from his second dagger.

He advanced confidently, stepping over shattered bones as he continued his rampage.

Seeing the undead numbers decrease at a visible pace, the remaining members of the Ghost Scream Bounty Hunter Party felt renewed confidence surge through their chests. Their fear began to recede, replaced by blind arrogance.

“Die!” they shouted as they rushed forward to rejoin the battle.

To many of the onlookers, the outcome already seemed decided.

Against such a powerful awakener, mere undead, no matter how many, should not stand a chance.

So they thought.

Yet those with sharper perception felt something was terribly wrong.

Thoren was calm.

Far too calm.

As his undead servants were butchered under the boss’s blades and his captains’ attacks, he should have shown panic.

Or at least concerned.

But there was nothing.

No tension.

No urgency.

He stood there, watching the carnage unfold with an expression so detached it chilled the soul.

It was as though everything happening before him was proceeding exactly as he had expected.

How was that possible?

In the next moment, he should have fallen into the boss’s hands.

So why wasn’t he afraid?

Had he already given up?

While confusion spread through the crowd and some prepared themselves for what they believed would be Thoren’s downfall, Idonea watched from afar with a faint smile curling her lips.

“I guess the real torture is about to begin,” she whispered.

Ahhhhh!

A soul-rending scream tore through the battlefield.

It was primal.

Raw.

A sound that clawed straight at the heart and soul.

Huh!

Everyone shuddered as their skin crawled with dread.

Slowly, one by one, their gazes shifted toward the source of the scream.

There, they saw it.

One of the Ghost Scream captains was lifted into the air by the neck. His body dangled helplessly, legs kicking weakly.

Before him loomed a massive skeletal figure, its hollow eye sockets blazing with ghostly soul fire.

Crack! Crack!

The sound of bones shattering echoed through the still air.

While everyone had been focused on the boss’s rampage, Thoren had calmly ensured that Ophelia, Fidelia, and the others were safely moved away from the battlefield.

Once they were out of danger, the Level 14 stonewall undead returned.

And the unfortunate victim caught in its grasp was a Level 13 hunter.

The undead twisted his arm into an impossible angle.

Muscles stiffened.

Breaths hitched.

The Ghost Scream boss abruptly halted his killing spree, his eyes locking onto the gruesome scene. The sound of bones being crushed did not stop.

“P–P–Please…” the captain begged weakly.

Before he could finish his plea, the undead reached out and clamped its skeletal hand around his jaw.

Slowly.

Deliberately.

It crushed it.

Blood splattered onto the ground.

Teeth rained down as his jaw collapsed into fragments.

Unable to scream properly, he could only emit a wet, guttural sound from his throat.

A heavy silence fell over the battlefield.

Hearts raced.

Fear seized every witness like a tightening vice.

“This…” Thoren’s calm voice broke the suffocating silence. “…is what happens to anyone who threatens me.”

Whoosh!

Three Level 14 undead and five Level 13 undead emerged beside him.

Their appearance stunned everyone.

He still had more.

Just when they thought he had revealed all his strength, they realized he had merely been warming up.

“You don’t threaten me,” Thoren continued.

His voice was low and unhurried.

But to those listening, it sounded like the voice of a monster.

Crack!

The captain’s neck snapped, the sound echoing like a final judgment.

Thud!

His lifeless body was tossed aside carelessly as the undead began to move forward.

Their steps were slow.

Measured.

Yet under the suffocating tension, each footstep thundered in everyone’s ears.

No one dared breathe.

No one dared blink.

No one dared move.

Every gaze locked onto the undead advancing toward the frozen Ghost Scream boss and his captains.

Their arrogance was gone.

Their confidence had vanished like smoke.

Hands trembled around weapon hilts.

Every hair on their bodies stood on end.

They had thought everything was planned.

They had thought Thoren was prey.

But they were wrong.

Terribly wrong.

They called themselves Ghost Scream.

Yet now, they were too afraid to scream.

Too afraid to run.

Too afraid to even think.

The boss stared at the three Level 14 stonewall undead marching toward him and swallowed hard.

“I knew it…” he thought.

“Fuck… I really invited the devil into my home.”

Even as every fiber of his being screamed danger, he knew retreat was impossible.

Gritting his teeth, he tightened his grip on his daggers and took a deep breath.

“Die!” he screamed, unleashing his hidden skill.

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