Global Survival: I Have Endless Skeletons-Chapter 115: Embracing Death

Nyssa had never expected that one day she would be cornered like this.

Ever since she awakened and began climbing the ranks, she had believed foolishly that her fate was firmly in her own hands.

With every level she gained, her confidence grew. Strength equaled control. Power equaled freedom.

That had been her creed.

At her current level, only a handful of human awakeners were stronger than her.

She was talented.

Experienced.

Ruthless when necessary.

That was why she had followed the Federation Police Chief deep into uncharted territory, braving deadly zones and risking her life countless times.

Her goal had been simple; increase her strength, level up as quickly as possible, and secure her position among the strongest.

For a long time, everything had gone according to plan.

Until recently.

Until a rookie appeared out of nowhere and shattered the balance of an entire human town.

A necromancer.

To restore order, and more importantly, to preserve the prestige of the Federation Police, they dispatched her and Percival to deal with the problem swiftly.

It should have been easy.

A clean execution.

To ensure success, the Slave Trade Guild had also sent three of their men.

Although the Federation Police and the Slave Trade Guild were openly at odds, both sides accepted the temporary alliance.

Each faction harbored its own schemes, but for now, their interests aligned.

With such a powerful team, failure should have been impossible.

Yet they were wrong.

Terribly wrong.

Nyssa’s most powerful spells had been unleashed one after another, each capable of annihilating a common Level 16 awakener.

And still, the undead advanced.

She knew undead were difficult opponents. Pain meant nothing to them.

Fear did not exist.

But she had never imagined they could be this terrifying.

Nothing worked.

Her strongest spells scorched bone and charred flesh, yet massive shields absorbed most of the damage.

The undead advanced in perfect coordination, methodical and relentless.

She tried to escape.

She was not given the chance.

Every time she attempted to retreat, the hammer-wielding undead hurled its weapon with terrifying precision.

Each time, she narrowly avoided being crushed.

The ground around her was littered with deep craters and shattered trees.

Her back was drenched in cold sweat.

Her face had gone pale from sheer terror.

Her mana reserves were completely exhausted.

She had tried everything.

And still, she could not escape their grasp.

"Just kill me..." Nyssa muttered hoarsely, collapsing against the trunk of a massive ancient tree.

Her legs trembled uncontrollably. Every breath burned. Her body screamed for rest that would never come.

She noticed something...something that puzzled her.

The undead attacking her were not trying to kill her.

They had countless opportunities.

A clean strike.

A crushing blow.

Yet every attack stopped short, forcing her back instead of finishing her.

Confusion flickered through her despair.

Then she heard footsteps.

A boy with silver hair and cold blue eyes appeared atop his undead mount.

Understanding dawned on her.

They had been holding back.

Waiting.

Thoren rode the Undead Mad Dog Mistveil toward her and stopped several feet away. The beast growled softly, its rotting maw dripping dark fluid onto the forest floor.

"Just kill me..." Nyssa repeated weakly.

She had already accepted her fate.

She was not foolish enough to believe the boy before her would hesitate.

Nor was she delusional enough to think her beauty might spare her.

From the reports, she knew exactly what Thoren was.

Ruthless.

Unforgiving.

A monster wearing human skin.

"Which force do you belong to?" Thoren asked casually, his voice calm, his eyes utterly devoid of emotion.

Nyssa froze.

Realization struck her like a hammer.

That was why she had been kept alive.

"Why should I tell you?" she scoffed weakly.

Her fate was sealed.

What difference would it make?

Thoren did not answer immediately. He simply stared at her for several long seconds, his gaze sharp and piercing.

"I suppose the reports about me were incomplete," he said at last, breaking the silence.

Nyssa frowned.

’What does that mean?’

Before she could react, two undead servants marched forward.

Their hollow eye sockets burned with cold yellowish soul fire, locking onto her like predators preparing to tear apart their prey.

A shiver ran down her spine.

Her remaining confidence shattered.

Then...

Ahhhh! Ahhhh! Ahhhh!

A soul-rending scream tore from her throat.

Pain exploded through her body.

Her eyes turned crimson. Veins bulged grotesquely across her forehead.

One undead held her firmly in place while the other raised its massive hammer.

The first strike came down slowly.

Her leg bones shattered.

She screamed again, her voice cracking, agony beyond comprehension flooding her senses. The hammer rose and fell again, crushing flesh, pulverizing bone.

It was deliberate.

A slow, merciless process.

Her muscles were mangled. Her bones ground into paste. Blood pooled beneath her, soaking into the forest floor.

She had never imagined a human could be this cruel.

She had expected a swift death.

Not this.

"I-I... t-talk..." she whimpered, barely able to form words.

Tears mixed with blood streamed down her face.

"F-federation..." she whispered, her voice hoarse and broken.

"P-please... k-kill... m-me..."

The pain was unbearable.

She had once feared death.

Now, she longed for it.

Only now did she understand there were things far worse than dying.

Thoren listened without reacting.

His expression did not change.

He had already suspected the answer. He had only needed confirmation.

Puish!

A sword plunged cleanly into her chest.

Nyssa gasped as her suffering ended. Her eyes dulled, and a faint sigh of relief escaped her lips.

’Finally... it’s over.’

[...]

[...]

Thoren did not look at the system notifications.

His gaze remained fixed on her corpse.

He had considered turning her into an undead servant, but the prolonged torture and complete destruction of her leg bones made it impractical.

"Forget it," he murmured, shaking his head slightly.

He turned away.

"Now, let’s hunt the last one," he said coldly, his eyes shifting toward a distant direction.

One of his undead servants picked up Nyssa’s staff before the group moved deeper into the forest.

Thoren was not worried.

Among his undead were hunters capable of tracking trails.

And it was only a matter of time before he lay hands on the last person.

*******

Please support this book with your gift.

1 Message Chair = +1 Chapter.

1 Dragon = +2 Chapters.