Global Survival: I Have Endless Skeletons-Chapter 197: Back Home.

Seated on the worn, old couch, Elara and her parents stared at Thoren, their eyes flickering with emotions they could barely control.

Relief, pride, awe, and a hint of fear all mingled in their gaze, and for a rare moment, the room was unusually quiet.

Serene, ever perceptive, glanced at her husband, signaling him silently to speak.

Ardyn rolled his eyes, as if silently questioning why he was always the one tasked with breaking the silence.

A low sigh escaped his lips, betraying his resignation; there was no avoiding it.

Unknown to them, their silent communication did not escape Thoren’s notice.

He watched them with an amused glint in his eyes, silently chuckling inwardly at the exchange.

He deliberately chose to remain quiet, letting his parents break the ice.

Even now, though they were still his parents, he could sense the subtle shift in their behavior.

The weight of his status and power seemed to have created an invisible barrier between them.

They were cautious in their words, measured in their movements, as if afraid to overstep.

And this... this was not what he wanted.

He wanted everything to return to normal, just as it had been before he awakened.

"Hmm..." Ardyn cleared his throat, straightening his back as he finally spoke.

"Son... how have you been?"

His voice was steady, but beneath it lay the undeniable tremor of a parent’s concern.

No matter how much power their child wielded, parental worry could not be subdued.

From the side, Serene shifted in her seat, adding gently, "Tell us... about your journey in the Abyss."

Elara’s eyes brightened instantly. This was what she had been waiting for, the story of the Abyss itself.

The Abyss.

Thoren’s successful return and the terrifying power he now wielded made her heartbeat quicken with anticipation.

Her desire to awaken her own potential had grown stronger with each passing second, fueled by envy and admiration. She couldn’t wait to step into her own destiny.

Slowly, Thoren began to recount his experiences.

He intentionally downplayed much of what had happened, simplifying the narrative to its most digestible form.

Yet, even with his watershed tales of the Dark Tide and battles against the ancient races left his parents trembling, fear etched deep into their faces.

"Is... that dangerous?" Serene asked, her voice trembling despite her attempt to remain composed.

"Brother... How did you defeat the ancient race?" Elara’s eyes gleamed with excitement, reflecting the thrill of someone hearing a tale of legendary power.

"It wasn’t too dangerous," Thoren said with a faint smile. "With my undead servants, I managed to overcome the ancient race."

A long, tense sigh escaped Ardyn and Serene—one they hadn’t realized they had been holding. Relief, mingled with awe, filled their chests.

"Really?!" Elara exclaimed, her voice rising in a crescendo of excitement.

"Brother, I thought Necromancers were weak. How can you be so powerful, defeating ancient races and beasts?"

Even his parents could not hide their astonishment. His profession, a Necromancer, had always been considered weak and useless.

How had he managed to conquer the abyss first floor and return to the surface in less than two weeks?

"There is no such thing as a weak profession," Thoren said seriously, his gaze steady. "Only weak Awakeners."

He let his words sink in before continuing. "Every profession has its potential. What matters is the person who wields it. Strength doesn’t come from the title, it comes from the individual."

Elara and their parents exchanged looks, their expressions slowly shifting into understanding.

"So... no matter what profession I awaken, I can become powerful?" Elara asked, hopeful and curious.

"Yes... and no," Thoren replied simply.

Confusion flickered across their faces. Didn’t he just say there were no weak professions?

Sensing their bewilderment, Thoren elaborated further.

"There is one factor that matters more than anything if you want to grow stronger," he said, his voice calm but firm.

The room fell silent. All three waited, leaning in instinctively, eager to hear his words.

"Talent," he said finally. "Your Talent Rank determines how quickly and how far you can develop your power."

Understanding dawned across their faces.

Now, they grasped the underlying truth that separated the weak from the strong, the ordinary from the extraordinary.

"Son... what is your Talent Rank?" Ardyn asked, curiosity piqued.

Elara and Serene leaned forward, their eyes fixed on him, waiting for his answer.

Thoren chuckled softly. "Not low... but high enough for me to return from the Abyss successfully."

His cryptic response elicited subtle smiles from Ardyn and Serene.

Even though they didn’t understand why their son refused to reveal his full talent, they knew he had a reason.

And besides, knowing his rank didn’t serve any purpose for them, they could not fight his battles for him.

Just as Elara opened her mouth to probe further, Serene rose to her feet, clapping her hands to draw attention.

"Enough of this talk about professions and talents!" she said with a bright smile. "This is a happy occasion, we need to celebrate!"

"That’s right," Ardyn agreed, rising as well. "Today, we drink and enjoy ourselves to the fullest!"

"Yes!" Elara shouted, pumping her small fists in the air.

"That does not include you, Choo," Serene said, walking toward the kitchen.

"Mother..." Elara pouted playfully.

"Hurry! Come help me in the kitchen," Serene said, her voice gentle but firm.

Though their lives were modest, the joy of Thoren’s safe return from the Abyss and the knowledge that all past grievances had been avenged filled the house with warmth and happiness.

Smiles returned to their faces.

For a moment, laughter and chatter filled the house, a stark contrast to the tense anticipation and dread they had all felt for so long.

But then, a roar of multiple engines cut through the celebratory air.

The laughter died instantly.

All smiles faded.

Outside, a group stepped out from their expensive cars, staring at the ordinary looking house with shock written on their faces.

No one could have imagined a child from here would conquer the abyss first floor in two weeks while the sons and daughter from powerful families failed.