Global Survival: I Have Endless Skeletons-Chapter 62: Chasing a Shadow the Abyss Fears

The dry lands stretched endlessly beneath the blazing sky, a desolate expanse of cracked earth and scattered stone that offered neither shelter nor mercy.

Heat shimmered in the distance, distorting the horizon into wavering mirages.

Minerva walked at the front of the group, her posture straight and unyielding.

Her expression was solemn; her gaze locked firmly on the distant horizon as if sheer determination alone could force answers to appear. Twelve hours.

They had been tracking that evil bastard for twelve relentless hours.

And yet, there was nothing.

No footprints.

No traces of undead energy.

It was as though he had vanished into thin air.

Her thick leather boots crushed pebbles beneath her steps, the sharp crack echoing faintly in the still air. Each step left behind deep, clearly defined footprints in the dust.

Beside her, Rowena walked quietly, her sharp eyes scanning the surroundings while her hand reached out to clasp Minerva’s.

The warmth of the contact was grounding, familiar.

"Don’t think too much about it," Rowena said gently, squeezing her hand. "We’ll catch him. I promise. And when we do, he’ll pay for his crimes."

Her voice carried both firmness and reassurance, steady as stone.

Minerva’s fingers tightened slightly around Rowena’s hand. She caressed the back of her palm with her thumb, forcing a faint smile onto her lips.

"I know..." she murmured.

Behind them walked Sebastian, his pace measured and controlled. His expression did not change as he observed the two women, his sharp eyes missing nothing.

Just then, movement flickered in the distance.

Their scout came sprinting toward them, his light armor clinking softly as he ran. His breathing was hurried, his steps urgent.

Instantly, Minerva and the rest of the Glorious Path Party halted. Their relaxed vigilance snapped into full alert.

The scout was a slim boy, no older than nineteen, clad in lightweight armor designed for speed rather than protection.

"Captain," he reported, breathless. "We’ve detected a group approaching from our direction."

Sebastian’s brow creased slightly, though he did not appear overly concerned. "How many?"

"Less than ten," the scout replied. "And... they appear injured."

Less than ten.

Injured.

Sebastian’s eyes narrowed.

Without hesitation, he gave the order. "Let’s move. We’ll see what’s going on."

The Glorious Path Party advanced quickly, their strides long and efficient.

They did not rush recklessly, but neither did they waste time.

In less than five minutes, vague outlines became clear shapes against the barren landscape.

Just as the scout had reported, the approaching group was in terrible condition.

Their armor was battered and broken, dented beyond repair. Leather straps hung loose, metal plates warped and cracked.

Their bodies were riddled with bruises and deep wounds, hastily wrapped in bandages soaked dark with dried blood.

When they drew closer, the sight grew even more disturbing.

One man staggered under the weight of another person slung across his back.

The injured man’s arms dangled limply, swaying with each step as though the bones within them had shattered completely.

Deep gashes cut across his waist and back, wounds so severe they should have been fatal.

Leading the group was a young woman gripping a broken spear. Its shaft was splintered, the blade chipped and stained black with dried blood.

Her face was streaked with grime and crimson, sweat plastering strands of hair to her skin.

Every step she took was labored.

Her chest rose and fell heavily, breath coming in ragged gasps.

Minerva, Rowena, Sebastian, and the rest of the Glorious Path Party stopped in their tracks, stunned into silence.

What could cause injuries like this?

Had they encountered monsters beyond the first floor?

The Abyss was dangerous—everyone knew that.

But for an entire party to be reduced to this state?

That was rare.

Unsettlingly rare.

Minerva stepped forward, her brow knitting together. "What happened to you?"

The woman with the broken spear looked up, her lips trembling. "Can we... can we get a healer?"

All eyes turned to Sebastian.

He studied the group carefully before nodding. "Fine," he said. "But you’ll tell us what happened afterward."

"Of course," the woman replied immediately.

Two healers stepped forward without delay, green and white mana flaring around their hands as they began casting healing skills.

The injured group sank to the ground, too weak to remain standing.

Within minutes, sweat beaded heavily on the healers’ foreheads. Their breathing grew strained, their faces pale.

"Captain," one of the healers said at last, wiping her brow. "This is all we can do. Their injuries are too severe. They’ll need healing potions and blood recovery elixir to fully recover."

"You’ve done enough," Sebastian said. "Return to formation."

Turning back to the injured group, he added evenly, "I hope you won’t take offense."

"Of course not," the spear-wielding woman said quickly, genuine gratitude filling her eyes. "You’ve already done more than anyone else. Thank you."

She wasn’t exaggerating.

They had passed several parties on their way here. Some had glanced at them and turned away. Others had ignored them entirely.

The Abyss was a place without mercy.

Everyone fended for themselves.

If they had looked even slightly less pathetic, they likely would have been robbed instead.

With the partial healing complete, color slowly returned to their faces. They still looked battered, but at least they could sit upright without collapsing.

Sebastian crossed his arms. "Now," he said, "can you tell us what happened?"

The woman nodded. "My name is Idonea."

She began recounting their ordeal, he cursed ancient city, the illusions, the Stonewall Tribe warriors, the coffin, the overwhelming despair.

As she spoke, the Glorious Path Party listened in growing horror.

Cold shivers ran down spines.

Just imagining it was enough to make their hearts race.

"We should all be dead," Idonea said quietly. "But we were saved by a necromancer."

"Wait." Minerva stepped forward sharply. "Did you say... a necromancer?"

"Yes," Idonea nodded. "He was terrifyingly strong. I’ve never seen anyone like him. And from what I heard, he only entered the Abyss recently."

Minerva’s breath caught.

"Silver hair?" she asked tightly.

"Yes."

"Blue eyes?"

"Yes."

"And... more than two undead under his control?"

Idonea nodded again. "You know him?"

Minerva’s eyes hardened. "Where is he?"

Idonea hesitated.

"He’s dangerous," Minerva continued coldly. "He’s killed innocent people. I’m a Federation Police officer. I will capture him and bring him to justice."

The reaction was immediate.

Idonea’s face was drained of color. Basil, the severely injured man, twitched violently.

"You... what?" Idonea exclaimed.

She scrambled to her feet and staggered backward. The others followed, panic written across their faces.

"Don’t," Idonea said, her voice trembling with fear. "Don’t go after him."

Minerva frowned. "You misunderstand—"

"I don’t," Idonea snapped. "If you value your lives, leave him alone."

Her eyes darted to Basil.

"He’s what happens when you oppose that monster."

"Let’s go," one of her companions whispered urgently.

Idonea turned to her group. "Move. Now."

They stumbled away as quickly as they could, as if fleeing a nightmare.

Silence fell.

Sebastian stared after them, his expression grim. "What... just happened?"

No one answered.

Rowena looked at Minerva. "What do we do?"

Minerva straightened and replied without hesitation. "We continue."

All eyes shifted to Sebastian.

He nodded. "We move forward."

Though inwardly, unease gnawed at him.

A boy who had just entered the Abyss...

That powerful?

He swallowed the doubt.

He couldn’t afford to lose face.

Especially not in front of Minerva.