Global Survival: I Have Endless Skeletons-Chapter 122: A Presence That Changed Everything.

"Leader, what should we do?" a knight asked in a deep, wary voice.

When the other knights heard the question, they instinctively sharpened their focus, their ears attuned to their Vice Guildmaster’s response even as they continued fighting.

Darius did not pause.

His blade rose and fell in relentless arcs, cutting down every beast that dared approach him.

The edge of his broadsword gleamed coldly beneath the overcast sky as it cleaved through thick hides and shattered bone.

Heads flew into the air.

Blood sprayed across battered shields and dented armor.

Claws splintered upon impact.

Darius’s movements were swift and precise. Each strike flowed seamlessly into the next, forming an unbroken sequence of lethal efficiency.

It was as though he stood at the center of a living killing array. None of the beasts that entered his range survived for more than a breath.

Within seconds, the ground around him was littered with mangled corpses. Severed limbs and shattered fangs lay scattered in every direction.

Dark blood soaked into the soil, mingling with exposed entrails.

Only then did Darius respond.

"We do nothing," he said calmly, his voice steady and unhurried despite the carnage. "We wait and observe what he intends to do. For now, our priority is to prevent the beast tide from expanding."

The surrounding knights nodded in unison.

Though many found the silver-haired figure watching from the hill suspicious, they did not allow curiosity to cloud their discipline.

"Push forward!" Darius commanded.

"Hiyah!"

The Knight Order’s formation roared as one and advanced a step.

Their broad shields shone with faint light as they locked together, forming an impenetrable wall.

The beasts hurled themselves against it, slamming into steel with frenzied desperation, attempting to break through.

But the knights held firm.

Claws scraped uselessly against reinforced metal. Fangs snapped inches from steady, unwavering faces.

Many knights were injured. Armor was torn open by savage blows. Blood seeped from gashes across their arms and legs.

Yet not a single knight cried out in panic.

In strict, disciplined motion, injured members were pulled backward by their comrades.

The moment a position opened, another knight stepped forward to fill the gap without hesitation.

Their movements were methodical.

Mechanical.

There was no room for error.

Though they faced a beast tide nearly ten times their number, fear did not appear in their eyes, only unyielding resolve.

With each step forward, more of them fell. Some collapsed lifelessly. Others were dragged to the rear, barely conscious.

Still, their line never wavered.

From the narrow passage between the two hills, they gradually pushed the tide back.

Their once-polished armor was now worn and dented, coated in blood and flesh.

Yet their determination did not falter.

In their eyes burned something unmistakable, zeal.

Pride.

The conviction that they were fighting for something greater than themselves.

This was not forced courage.

It was belief.

From atop the small hill, Thoren watched everything with genuine appreciation.

His deep blue eyes shifted from the disciplined Knight Order to the seemingly endless beast tide.

Is it possible that someone is orchestrating this? he wondered.

A firm conviction took root in his mind.

Beast tides were rare occurrences on the First Floor. Yet he had already encountered two in a short span of time.

More importantly, he had discovered a "rat" lurking behind one of them.

His gaze pierced deeper into the chaotic swarm of beasts, as if trying to see beyond the visible carnage and uncover the hidden hand manipulating events.

He had encountered too many plots that he lost faith in coincidence. .

Enough to make him question everything he thought he understood about the Abyss.

"Whatever the truth is," he murmured quietly, "once this is over, I will uncover whoever is behind it."

A faint flame flickered within his sharp eyes.

Whoosh!

A surge of necromantic energy burst forth as the Undead Iron Roar Komodo materialized from his Undead Space.

Its towering frame slammed onto the hillside, and the surrounding air distorted under its oppressive aura.

Pure wind twisted into currents of dark, deathly energy.

Beside it, ten elite undead servants emerged in succession, each radiating a formidable presence.

The atmosphere changed instantly.

Heavy.

Suffocating.

Unpredictable.

Both the Knight Order and the beasts felt it.

For a brief moment, even the roars and clashing steel seemed to dim beneath the weight of that new force.

Neither side knew which faction this terrifying presence would support.

Darius’s expression hardened.

The pressure radiating from the Undead Iron Roar Komodo caused every hair on his body to stand on end.

Though he himself was a Level 17 Knight, he was not confident he could defeat such a creature without paying a heavy price.

And there were ten more undead standing beside it, each emanating killing intent.

"He must be the one they call Thoren Starfall..." one knight muttered grimly.

The name was unfamiliar to most of them.

But Darius had heard it before.

"The Grim Reaper..." he whispered under his breath.

Even as they continued fighting, the knights’ attention shifted.

The beast tide, once their sole concern, had become secondary.

If the Grim Reaper chose to side with the beasts...

Their fate would become uncertain.

However, before Darius could issue new orders, movement erupted from the hillside.

The undead charged.

They descended like a raging tempest, tearing down the slope with unstoppable momentum. The ground trembled beneath their advance.

Then the Undead Iron Roar Komodo unleashed a deafening war cry.

The sound rolled across the battlefield like thunder.

Instantly, countless beasts froze.

Their bodies trembled violently. Their eyes glazed over, unfocused and filled with instinctive terror.

The war cry alone declared its allegiance.

The undead were not here to assist the beasts.

Seeing this, the Knight Order released a collective breath they had not realized they were holding.

"Kill!" Darius raised his heavy broadsword high. "Avenge our fallen brothers and sisters!"

"For our brothers and sisters!" the knights roared in unison.

Their morale surged.

The Knight Order seized the opportunity.

"Advance!" Darius commanded.

The formation pushed forward with renewed vigor, cutting down retreating beasts and preventing any attempt at regrouping.

Even so, none of the knights entertained the illusion that they could annihilate the entire tide.

That was not their objective.

Their mission was simple.

Repel the beast tide and prevent it from spilling beyond the Uncharted Territory.

Boom!

The Undead Iron Roar Komodo crashed into the beast tide like a descending mountain.

The impact alone sent shockwaves through the battlefield, flattening several beasts beneath its immense weight.

Its massive claws tore apart every creature in its path, ripping through thick hides and shattering bone as if they were brittle twigs.

Blood sprayed into the air like a grotesque fountain.

Its jagged maw snapped down on a charging beast, biting cleanly through its torso and tearing it in half.

Fragments of flesh scattered across the ground. Within its hollow sockets, necromantic soul fire burned fiercely.

Wild.

Ferocious.

Whoosh! Whoosh!

Bang! Bang!

Its heavy, barbed tail swept in a wide arc behind it, crushing everything within range.

The force of the blows sent multiple beasts flying into the air before they slammed lifelessly onto the blood-soaked earth.

Miserable howls filled the battlefield, blending into a chorus of panic and agony.

Several powerful beasts attempted to counterattack, lunging at the Undead Iron Roar Komodo with sharpened claws and venomous fangs.

Their strikes landed but to no effect.

The undead felt no pain.

It knew no fear.

It neither hesitated nor retreated.

Claws raked across its iron-like scales, yet it continued forward without the slightest pause.

Jaws snapped at its limbs, but it simply crushed the beasts beneath its feet.

Every unfortunate beast that failed to evade its menacing advance was torn apart mercilessly.

While the Undead Iron Roar Komodo rampaged at the center of the battlefield, the ten elite undead servants were no less terrifying.

They moved with mechanical precision.

Every beast that crossed their path was eliminated in fewer than three strikes.

A slash.

A shield bash.

A thrust.

Clean.

Efficient.

Fatal.

When surrounded by multiple beasts or targeted by ambushes from the flanks, their heavy broad shields locked together seamlessly.

The beast tide might have been a nightmare for humans.

But to the undead, the beasts were nothing more than fragile piles of flesh.

In a battle of attrition, no living army could rival the undead.

They did not tire.

They did not falter.

They did not feel fear or despair.

Above all, the most frightening presence on the battlefield was not the towering komodo nor the elite undead.

It was the necromancer standing behind them.

[Undead Summoning.]

[Undead Summoning.]

Thoren did not remain idle.

His blue eyes glowed faintly as he continuously cast his skill. Waves of necromantic energy spread through the battlefield, seeping into the fallen corpses littering the battlefield.

One by one, the dead began to stir.

A severed arm twitched.

A mangled torso jerked upright.

Beasts that had fallen moments ago rose again, their eyes replaced by burning soul fire.

The scene was horrifying.

Dreadful.

Unnatural.

Even seasoned members of the Knight Order could not suppress their shivers. Their lips trembled involuntarily as they witnessed the fallen beasts rejoin the battlefield.

For many of them, it was the first time they had ever witnessed necromancy on such a scale.

Their muscles stiffened.

Several knights momentarily forgot to swing their swords.

Some even stopped fighting altogether.

Their jaws slackened in disbelief.

Darius, still standing at the forefront, saw the rising corpses from the corner of his eye.

He turned and froze.

Before him, the number of undead had already surpassed a hundred.

And it was still increasing.

"My goodness..." he whispered under his breath.

A chill ran down his spine.

For a brief moment, he even forgot about the beast lunging toward him.

He mechanically cut it down without conscious thought, his mind struggling to process what he was witnessing.

This was supposed to be a beast tide.

But now...

Now it looked like something far more chaotic.

A battlefield where the dead refused to remain dead.

Darius inhaled sharply, forcing himself to regain composure. As Vice Guildmaster of the Knight Order, he could not afford to lose focus.

Yet the shock was undeniable.

An army that replenished itself mid-battle.

An army that grew stronger the longer the fight continued.

He had heard rumors of a necromancer called the Grim Reaper.

But hearing about it and witnessing it were two entirely different matters.

Unknown to Darius and the Knight Order, they were not the only ones left flabbergasted by the unfolding spectacle.

Hidden deep within the beast tide, concealed behind layers of chaos and bloodshed, a pair of eyes watched the battlefield tremble under Thoren’s power.