Global Survival: I Have Endless Skeletons

"Vorlath Blood Compass..."

Thoren muttered, his voice dripping with both shock and excitement as he stared at the ancient object embedded within the chest of the statue.

His deep blue eyes reflected the faint light of the Soul Lantern while his heartbeat gradually quickened.

Without hesitation, Thoren stepped forward and climbed onto the ancient statue. The moment his fingers touched it, a strange sensation spread through his body.

Cold.

Not the ordinary cold of ice or winter, but a deep and unnatural chill that seemed to travel directly through his flesh and sink into his soul, causing the hairs on his arms to stand upright.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Thoren frowned slightly but did not withdraw his hand. He had come this far, there was no reason to hesitate now.

With a firm pull, he removed the Vorlath Blood Compass from the statue chest. The ancient object came free without resistance.

Thoren lowered his gaze and finally had the opportunity to examine the compass properly.

It was unlike any compass he had ever seen.

The outer body was made from an unknown dark material that seemed to have existed for countless years.

Its surface was covered in ancient scratches and mysterious markings that formed complicated patterns around its circular frame.

Dried blood covered almost every inch of its surface, some of it appearing black from age while other patches retained a disturbingly fresh crimson color.

At the center of the compass was an eye.

A real eye.

It was embedded directly into the compass as though the ancient artifact had been built around a living organ.

Its eyelid sealed shut while thin blood vessels spread from its edges across the dark surface like roots growing through soil.

Thoren stared at it.

"This..." His expression became solemn.

He had expected something mysterious, but he had never expected the Blood Compass to possess an eye.

The eye suddenly twitched.

"What?" Thoren’s pupils contracted.

And then, the eyelid slowly opened and a crimson iris stared directly at him.

The moment their gazes met, Thoren’s mind went blank.

Boom!

His consciousness was instantly dragged somewhere else as he could no longer feel his body.

He could no longer hear the faint hum of the Soul Lantern.

He could no longer see the ancient building.

Everything disappeared.

And then, a world appeared before him.

It was beautiful.

Green plains stretched toward the horizon, enormous trees covered the land, clear rivers flowed between valleys, and cities made from strange but magnificent structures stood proudly beneath a brilliant sky.

This was the world of the Veyrath.

But the beautiful scene lasted only for a moment before the land began to change.

At first, small patches of grass withered and then rivers became shallow.

The trees turned brown, and animals began to disappear. And beneath the earth, something moved.

Roots.

Countless enormous roots slowly spread beneath the world, crawling through the soil like veins belonging to some gigantic living creature.

Then the ground cracked.

They pierced the earth and dragged everything they could reach into the darkness beneath the world.

The Veyrath tried to stop it.

But the Crimson Womb had already grown too powerful.

The vision changed again.

Thoren watched entire cities disappear beneath waves of crimson roots while countless Veyrath screamed and fled through streets filled with blood and corpses.

Everywhere the roots passed, the once fertile land became barren, the green grass disappearing beneath layers of dry sand until the beautiful world slowly transformed into the Bleeding Desert.

The scene changed.

War.

Two armies stood against each other.

The Ashen Crown.

The Buried Sun.

Veyrath fought Veyrath.

Blood covered the battlefield.

Soul weapons collided.

Powerful techniques shattered mountains.

Buildings collapsed beneath waves of energy.

The Ashen Crown fought to merge themselves with the Crimson Womb, believing that they could become immortal gods, while the Buried Sun fought desperately to prevent them from completing their plan.

Thoren watched everything.

He saw warriors die.

He saw scholars burned alive.

He saw priests sacrifice themselves.

Then he saw him.

A Veyrath standing at the center of the Buried Sun.

Vorlath.

He was not the strongest warrior and likewise, he was not the most powerful soul mage. But there was something in his eyes that immediately caught Thoren’s attention.

Resolve.

Vorlath knew they might lose.

He knew the Ashen Crown might eventually defeat them.

He knew the Crimson Womb might consume everything.

Yet he continued fighting.

The vision accelerated.

Years passed.

The war continued.

The Crimson Womb grew.

The world died.

The Ashen Crown performed the World Molting Ritual.

The ritual failed.

Their civilization collapsed.

And eventually, the Veyrath disappeared.

But before everything was lost, Vorlath stood inside a dark chamber surrounded by countless ancient symbols, holding the Blood Compass in his hands.

He looked toward something beyond the vision.

Perhaps the future.

Perhaps whoever would eventually find the artifact.

His lips moved.

Thoren could not hear the words.

But somehow, he understood.

The Blood Compass was not created to find treasure.

It was a weapon for the future.

A means for those who survived to locate anything connected to the Crimson Womb.

A tracker.

Understanding everything, the vision shattered and Thoren’s consciousness returned. He stood on the ancient statue with the Vorlath Blood Compass still held tightly in his hand.

For several seconds, he did not move. His breathing was slow and his expression was filled with realization.

"So with this compass, I can find anything related to the Crimson Womb and destroy them."

His fingers tightened around the artifact.

Now he understood.

The Blood Compass was not merely the key to completing his trial. It was the legacy left behind by Vorlath.

Thoren lowered his gaze toward the compass.

"So you prepared this for someone who would come after you." His voice was quiet.

"And after all these years, it finally found someone."

He did not know whether that someone was supposed to be him.

He did not know whether the Blood Compass had chosen him or whether he had simply been lucky enough to find it.

But there was one thing he knew.

Vorlath had expected this day to come.

And if the Ancient Scorpion’s words were anything to go by, that future had already arrived.

Thoren slowly raised the compass, studying the strange eye embedded at its center.

"So you’re telling me that anything connected to the Crimson Womb can be found through you."

The compass remained silent while staring back at him.

Thoren’s expression became complicated.

Vorlath.

The leader of the Buried Sun.

The man who had prepared for the worst and left behind a weapon for generations he would never meet.

A strange respect appeared within Thoren’s eyes. Without hesitation, he bit his finger and dropped a single blood on the ancient compass.

His blood sipped deep into the blood compass, forming a strange mysterious connection with him.

With the connection, he could communicate with the blood compass while the compass could relay some information to him when it detected members of the crimson womb.

Thorenn nodded, satisfied with everything.

Then he prepared to store the Blood Compass inside his inventory but before he could do so, a familiar voice suddenly echoed inside his mind.

[Congratulation on Completing your trial]

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