Their strength far surpassed the cannon fodder outside. Each one radiated a powerful, heart-stopping aura; they were clearly leader-class beings within the Curse Bone Race.
At this moment, they all faced the same direction, kneeling in humble submission.
In the very center of the main hall was a colossal throne, built from the skulls of countless living beings.
Upon the throne, a figure was seated, leaning casually to one side.
It, too, was a skeleton.
But its skeletal body was not a ghastly white; instead, it possessed a warm, jade-like texture.
Every inch of its bones was inscribed with countless abstruse and twisted runes that emitted a faint glow.
It wore a wide, black robe that seemed woven from pure shadow, and on its head rested a ferocious crown.
It merely sat there in silence, yet a supreme pressure—the aura of a sovereign who ruled the world and held power over life and death—enveloped the entire hall.
The King of a Thousand Curses, Akayle!
