Global Survival: I Have Endless Skeletons-Chapter 45: The First to Cross, the Last to Retreat

Instantly, the tense crowd widened their eyes in disbelief.

The sudden opening of the ancient gate shattered the fragile balance holding fear and greed in check.

Many awakeners instinctively shifted their footing, bodies angled away from the gate, already preparing to flee from the rising sense of danger clawing at their instincts.

But now.

Everything changed.

Whoosh!

Before anyone else could react, a group surged forward.

Their movements were sharp and decisive, their speed startlingly swift.

In the blink of an eye, they crossed the threshold and vanished into the ancient gate as if swallowed whole.

"Let’s go!" someone shouted.

The cry acted like a spark thrown into dry tinder.

Immediately, the crowd erupted into motion.

People began rushing toward the ancient gate in a chaotic flood, fear momentarily forgotten as greed took over.

All thoughts of caution were drowned beneath visions of ancient treasures, lost weapons, legendary artifacts, and forgotten inheritances waiting for them.

Perhaps they had not truly forgotten the danger.

Perhaps they simply chose to ignore it.

After all, the allure of treasure was far stronger than caution, especially for those who had risked their lives countless times in the abyss.

Yet, not everyone moved.

While numerous parties rushed headlong into the ancient gate, three groups remained perfectly still.

The Crimson Arc Guild, the Silver Crest Guild, and an unfamiliar faction cloaked entirely in black robes and deep hoods.

Apart from these organized forces, a handful of cautious individuals also held their ground, watching with guarded eyes as the reckless ones disappeared one after another.

Thoren folded his arms across his chest, his gaze locked firmly on the ancient gate.

His expression was calm, almost detached, but his mind was racing.

Whatever the figures in black were scheming, he was certain of one thing, it was connected to whatever lay beyond that gate.

Slowly, his eyes shifted.

First, to the Silver Crest Guild.

He had already marked them as enemies.

A life-and-death enemy.

The hostility between them was no longer subtle, and he had no intention of letting past conflicts remain unresolved.

Then, his gaze moved to the hooded figures. 𝕗𝕣𝐞𝐞𝘄𝐞𝚋𝚗𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗹.𝚌𝕠𝚖

Something about them unsettled him.

He could not explain it, nor did he dwell on it for long. Whatever secrets they were hiding would reveal themselves eventually.

After several long minutes passed, the Silver Crest Guildmaster finally lost his patience.

He stepped forward, casting a scornful glance toward Arin.

"You can stay back here like a coward," he sneered, his voice carrying clearly across the space, "while others claim all the treasure."

Arin did not rise to the bait.

He merely shrugged, his expression calm and unreadable.

"That’s fine by me," he replied evenly.

"Tch!" The Silver Crest Guildmaster clicked his tongue in annoyance, clearly dissatisfied that his provocation had failed.

Without another word, he turned and led his guild forward.

One by one, the Silver Crest Guild members disappeared into the ancient gate, their figures swallowed by the pulsing runes.

With a major guild taking the lead, those who had been hesitating could no longer hold back.

If danger truly existed within the gate, then those ahead could serve as cannon fodder.

That thought alone was enough to push them forward.

Groups rushed in succession, vanishing one after another. In less than two minutes, the area before the ancient gate grew eerily quiet.

Only three groups remained.

The Crimson Arc Guild’s elite team exchanged confused glances, their brows furrowed.

They looked at Arin, unable to hide their uncertainty.

Why weren’t they moving?

If they continued to wait, every valuable treasure would be claimed by their rivals.

Several members tightened their grips on their weapons, frustration burning in their eyes.

Though none dared voice their dissatisfaction out of respect for Arin, their body language spoke volumes.

Arin saw it all.

And yet, he remained unmoved.

His gaze was fixed on the black-robed figures.

At the same time, beneath their hoods, the black-robed men were also watching Arin and Thoren closely.

Why aren’t they entering?

Do they know something?

Questions flickered through their minds like sparks in the dark. This was the final phase of their plan. Everything had proceeded smoothly until now.

But this delay...

It unsettled them.

The three sides faced each other in silence, tension thick enough to taste.

None was willing to make the first move.

As the moments dragged on, impatience began to creep into the black-robed group.

Their mission window was closing rapidly.

With each passing second, they remained outside the gate, the risk of failure increased.

And failure meant only one thing.

Death.

Without further hesitation, one of them stepped forward. His movements were slow and deliberate, betraying no urgency.

It was a carefully maintained façade meant to mask how critical this gate truly was to them.

Behind him, the others followed in perfect sync, their steps steady and confident.

Beneath their hoods, disdain flickered in their eyes as they glanced toward Thoren and Arin.

One by one, they vanished into the ancient gate.

The moment the last black-robed figure disappeared, Thoren moved.

He strode forward decisively, his undead minions closing in around him like silent sentinels.

Arin gave a brief signal, and the Crimson Arc Guild’s elite team followed closely behind.

The instant Thoren crossed the threshold, his vision blurred violently.

Space twisted.

The world seemed to fold in on itself.

When his vision finally returned, he found himself standing within a narrow cave passage.

Thoren did not panic.

Nor did he rush forward.

He carefully assessed his surroundings, he pushed his perception to the limit.

Darkness wrapped around him like a skin, blocking any form of perception.

The air was stale, heavy with the scent of ancient dust and long-forgotten time.

It felt as though no human had walked this passage for thousands of years.

Around him, his undead minions stood perfectly still, awaiting his command.

With no immediate threats detected, Thoren advanced slowly, each step measured and deliberate.

Despite the absence of danger, he did not relax.

At the slightest sign of hostility, he was prepared to summon his entire undead army.

When he reached the end of the passage, he stopped.

Ahead stood a massive stone doorway, slightly ajar. Beyond it lay nothing but darkness, an oppressive void that swallowed all light.

He searched the walls carefully, glancing left and right but found no alternate paths.

"I guess this is it," he muttered.

With a silent command, his undead minions moved first, passing through the doorway without hesitation.

Thoren followed closely behind, tightening his grip on his iron sword. His muscles tensed instinctively.

The moment he crossed the threshold, the stone door behind him slid shut with a deep, grinding sound.

The noise echoed ominously through the chamber.

Yet he had no time to dwell on it.

One by one, hidden torches along the walls ignited, casting flickering light across the chamber.

And then.

Thoren saw it.