Chapter 667: The Unexpected.

Thoren watched as the mourners continued to dissolve his undead legion into black water at an alarming speed, and his expression grew increasingly grim with every passing moment.

Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!

The mourners moved through the chamber like invisible specters, appearing beside one undead servant after another before extending their skeletal hands.

Wherever their fingers made contact, the undead immediately began to dissolve, their bodies losing their shape as though an invisible force was consuming them from within.

Their armor, weapons, and bones all melted together, turning into puddles of black water that spread across the stone floor.

Thoren’s eyes darted from one location to another, desperately trying to follow their movements.

However, the mourners were simply too fast.

Every time he focused on one, it would disappear and reappear somewhere else, leaving another undead servant to perish beneath its skeletal hand.

His mind raced as he pushed his thinking to the limit.

He considered countless tactics and strategies, searching for a way to turn the situation around.

Perhaps he should recall his undead legion and withdraw from the chamber.

Perhaps he should order his remaining servants to spread out, keeping the mourners occupied while he searched for an opening.

He even considered overwhelming the creatures with a concentrated assault, using his strongest undead to attack several mourners simultaneously.

However, every strategy he considered failed before he could put it into practice.

The mourners could move too quickly for an ordinary encirclement to work.

Spreading his undead across the chamber would only give the creatures more isolated targets, while gathering them together would allow the mourners to slaughter them in groups.

Even if his strongest undead managed to land a successful attack, he had no idea whether physical damage would affect these mysterious beings at all.

More importantly, he still did not understand the nature of their power.

There was no visible weapon, no obvious spell, and no clear indication of what happened when their skeletal hands touched his undead.

They simply reached out, and the targets dissolved into black water.

It was as though an invisible power erased everything it touched, leaving Thoren with no clear weakness to exploit.

Against such an enemy, how was he supposed to fight?

Thoren clenched his fists, but the answer continued to elude him.

He had survived countless dangerous encounters inside the Abyss, relying on his intelligence, his undead legion, and his ability to adapt to unfamiliar situations.

Even when confronted with powerful beasts, he could usually identify their weaknesses and devise a strategy to overcome them.

But this time, he could find no solution.

His breathing gradually quickened as another group of undead disappeared beneath the mourners’ touch.

His chest rose and fell more rapidly, and the heavy atmosphere inside the Hall of Tallies seemed to press against his lungs.

He tried to force himself to calm down, but the sight before him made it increasingly difficult to maintain his composure.

A bead of sweat gathered on his forehead and slowly trickled down his temple. He did not even notice it.

His eyes remained fixed on the battlefield, watching helplessly as the number of his undead servants dwindled.

Every passing second brought another loss, and every loss narrowed his remaining options.

The thought of losing his entire undead legion filled him with a growing sense of dread.

Thoren swallowed hard, his mind struggling to find even the smallest opening in the desperate situation.

He wanted to retreat, but he did not know whether the mourners would allow him to escape.

He wanted to fight back, but every attack he considered seemed destined to fail.

For the first time since entering the Hall of Tallies, he felt genuine panic creeping into his heart.

"If this continues, it is only a matter of time before all my undead legion are devoured," he muttered in a trembling voice.

Watching the onslaught, Thoren’s unease continued to mount on his shoulders like two massive mountains, weighing down his thoughts and making it increasingly difficult for him to remain calm.

’I need to do something...’

’I need to do it now...’

His mind raced once again as he watched the mourners target the last batch of his undead servants.

The situation was rapidly spiraling out of his control, and he could no longer afford to waste precious seconds searching for a perfect solution.

Thoren clenched his teeth as he forced himself to think.

Even though he still had thousands of undead servants stored inside his Undead Space, he never thought of bringing them out.

Under normal circumstances, overwhelming his enemies with numbers would have been one of his most reliable strategies.

His undead legion had allowed him to fight several powerful opponents simultaneously, and the sheer number of servants at his disposal was one of his greatest advantages.

However, the situation before him was different.

As long as he did not find a solution to his current predicament, bringing out more undead would be a foolish thing to do.

What difference would another thousand undead make if the mourners could dissolve them with a single touch?

He would only be sending more of his undead servants to their destruction.

Thoren’s breathing grew heavier as he watched another undead Scorpion Man vanish beneath a mourner’s skeletal hand.

His remaining servants continued to struggle, but their attacks were useless against enemies that could disappear and reappear before they had a chance to react.

He had to find a way to stop them.

But how?

His thoughts churned desperately, and every possible answer seemed to lead to another dead end.

Just as Thoren was reaching the end of his wits, something unexpected happened.

The Soul Lantern of Eternal Crypt, which had been floating above him and illuminating the dark chamber, suddenly began to move.

At first, Thoren did not notice the change.

His attention remained fixed on the mourners as he desperately searched for a way to save his remaining undead servants.

However, the faint movement at the edge of his vision soon caught his attention, and he instinctively turned his head.

The illusory soul lantern was drifting forward.

Its ghostly flame flickered strangely, casting wavering light across the black water as it moved away from Thoren.

Thoren’s eyes widened.

’What the hell?’

He exclaimed in his mind, momentarily forgetting the desperate situation surrounding him.

The Soul Lantern of Eternal Crypt had always responded to his call, appearing when he summoned it and remaining under his control.

He had never seen it move independently in this manner, much less advance toward an unknown entity while he was focused on something else.

Before he could even react, the illusory soul lantern appeared before a mourner.

Thoren did not know how it had reached that position so quickly.

One moment, the lantern had been drifting away from him, and the next, it was floating directly in front of the cloaked figure.

He had not seen it cross the distance between them, nor had he sensed any unusual fluctuation in its movement.

For a brief moment, he could only stare at the scene in confusion.

The mourner stood motionless, its head concealed beneath its dark cloak and its skeletal hands hanging at its sides while the Soul Lantern hovered before it.

Then, something unexpected happened.