Global Survival: I Have Endless Skeletons-Chapter 87: The Day Silver Crest Was Judged

Inside the Silver Crest Guild headquarters, panic had reached a boiling point.

Guild members paced back and forth across the hall, their footsteps restless and uneven.

No one dared to breathe too loudly.

Even the faint sound of armor shifting felt unbearably sharp in the suffocating silence.

Some rested their hands on the hilts of their weapons, fingers twitching as if ready to draw at any moment.

Yet none of them found the comfort they desperately sought.

Their hearts pounded heavily in their chests.

Fear crawled along their skin like living insects.

Blood ran cold through their veins.

Perspiration gathered on brows and trickled down temples, soaking collars and gloves.

Plans crumbled.

Motivation vanished into thin air.

The courage they once believed they possessed shattered completely, revealed to be nothing more than a fragile illusion. Only now did they truly understand how dreadful the Grim Reaper was.

You would never understand it until you felt it yourself.

Until his presence scraped against your skin like a blade.

Until your breath hitches for no reason at all, your lungs refusing to obey your will.

Until your heart stuttered, hesitating as though it had forgotten how to beat.

Eyes dimmed, vision narrowing, the world seeming to tilt toward its end.

They had thought they were veterans.

They had survived the abyss...days, weeks, even months of it. They had fought beasts, endured Dark Tides, stared death in the face more times than they could count.

They believed nothing could shake them anymore.

But now...

Now they know.

They had been wrong.

There was still something capable of making them tremble.

Not a beast.

Not the Dark Tide.

But a fellow awakener, one just like them.

They had once taken pride in their guild’s strength, in the numbers they commanded and the alliances they had built. They believed that united, they were untouchable.

Yet in his presence, all of it felt nugatory.

Meaningless.

Pathetic.

What about their so-called allies?

Gone.

Not a single one had answered their call for help.

Each reply came with excuses...urgent missions, internal issues, inconvenient timing.

Thin, transparent lies meant to avoid standing on the same battlefield as the Grim Reaper.

Only now did they understand how the Ghost Scream Bounty Hunter must have felt.

Hunted.

Cornered.

Abandoned.

Standing at the center of the hall, the Guildmaster bit down hard on the corner of his lip.

He inhaled deeply through his nose, then exhaled, trying to steady himself but the panic refused to recede.

With every breath, it rose higher, swelling like an incoming tide.

Regret gnawed at his heart.

He regretted it.

All of it.

He regretted going against Thoren.

He regretted the taunts, the arrogance, the belief that numbers and schemes could compensate for power.

He had thought Thoren was just another awakener.

How wrong he had been.

That man was a sword of Damocles, hanging above the neck of anyone foolish enough to provoke him.

The Grim Reaper.

Merciless.

Unforgiving.

Ruthless to the extreme.

He did not move for pleas.

He did not fear reputation or judgment.

When he arrived, he judged—and then he departed.

And now, the Silver Crest Guild stood on the verge of that judgment.

"G-Guildmaster..." a trembling voice broke the oppressive silence. "H-He’s here."

The words landed like a death sentence.

Sharp gasps echoed throughout the hall. Guild members shuddered uncontrollably, their eyes snapping toward the entrance door as if drawn by instinct.

Many swallowed hard, forcing down the thick lumps forming in their throats.

"There’s no hiding from him," the Vice Guildmaster said grimly, her voice steady despite the tension lining her face.

She had once believed that with careful planning and enough allies, they might stand a chance. Now, she understood how laughable that hope had been.

The Grim Reaper made their alliances look like children linking hands in front of a flood.

Still, she refused to kneel.

Just like the Ghost Scream Bounty Hunter, she would rather die fighting than cower like a trapped animal.

"Let’s go out and face him," she said, striding toward the exit.

Her back was straight.

Unyielding.

Seeing her resolve, the Guildmaster and the surrounding members wore conflicted expressions. Fear warred with pride, survival clashing with dignity.

After a brief hesitation, the Guildmaster exhaled slowly and followed her.

The inevitable had arrived.

One by one, the guild members fell in behind them. Each wore a grim expression, hands clenched, eyes darkened with dread.

Outside, the street had fallen eerily silent.

Thoren stood motionless at the center, his silver hair catching the light. His expression was calm, detached almost bored.

Behind him, ten hooded figures stood in formation, their black robes fluttering faintly in the breeze.

The Vice Guildmaster stepped out first.

Thoren merely glanced at her, his gaze sliding past without interest before locking onto the wooden doors behind her.

Seconds later, the Guildmaster emerged, followed by more than fifty guild members.

The crowd watching from a distance held its collective breath.

Questions raced through their minds.

When had the Silver Crest Guild offended the Grim Reaper?

Would he slaughter them all?

Would one of the strongest guilds on the first floor be wiped out today?

Fear rippled through the onlookers.

Concern twisted into dread.

Yet not a single voice dared to speak.

"Why have you come?" the Guildmaster asked at last, his expression strained.

His mind raced.

He remembered sending three high-ranking members to capture Thoren.

He remembered the Slave Trade Guild.

But he could not admit any of it.

Not here.

Not now.

Not ever.

Thoren studied him silently before responding.

"Since you dared to attack me," he said evenly, "you should have prepared for this day."

His voice was not loud, yet it carried clearly through the silent street.

Confusion rippled through the spectators.

"They attacked him?"

"When did that happen?"

"I knew it!"

"Those shameless guilds must have crossed him."

"Of course he wouldn’t come without a reason."

The Guildmaster’s face twisted with bitterness.

"Can you... let this go?" he asked, forcing sincerity into his voice. "Many of our members are innocent. You can’t kill them all over a single mistake, can you?"

"If innocent blood is spilled," he continued quickly, 𝓯𝙧𝓮𝓮𝒘𝓮𝙗𝙣𝒐𝒗𝒆𝓵.𝓬𝓸𝒎

"it will stain your hands. The world is already watching. You don’t want to become an evil awakener, do you?"

His thoughts ran at full speed, desperately searching for a lifeline.

"You can name any compensation," he said firmly. "Our guild will fulfill it immediately."

Thoren looked at him.

The gaze was calm.

Dispassionate.

As if he were looking at something utterly insignificant.

Without saying a word, the ten hooded figures behind him stepped forward in perfect unison.

The sound of their synchronized movement echoed like a verdict.

The Guildmaster’s heart sank.

The answer was clear.

There would be no negotiation.

No mercy.

Only judgment.