Evolving My Undead Legion In A Game-Like World

Chapter 1217: Frozen Blocks

Upon hearing his question, both figures became silent.

Then the one farther back sighed.

"Why are they always like this?"

His companion chuckled. He gestured toward Michael.

"It's always the same questions."

He began counting on his fingers.

"Some start begging. Some ask how we found them. Some ask how their death came to be. Some desperately want to know who paid for their heads."

The second man laughed.

"Occasionally, you get someone who spends their last few minutes threatening to kill your entire bloodline."

"Those are entertaining."

Michael's expression remained calm.

The first figure stared at him before shrugging. Perhaps because they were convinced Michael couldn't escape, he didn't seem particularly concerned about revealing anything.

"Fine. It's not like it'll matter soon."

He walked toward the edge of the formation.

"First of all, you weren't even supposed to be our problem. We had just returned from another mission when we received a new order. Apparently, some rising star had offended someone some people shouldn't have."

The other figure crossed his arms.

"The pay was good, really good, for a target who was young and just a Rank Three Awakener brat."

Michael didn't interrupt.

"The information said you relied heavily on summoned undead. Dangerous ones, admittedly. But without them, from what we can see, you're not much of a threat."

He laughed.

The second figure suddenly cursed.

"Such an easy mission. Then your runaway ass disappeared."

Michael's eyebrow twitched.

"We came all the way here but couldn't find you anywhere."

The first figure sounded very offended by the memory.

"We would have taken a significant loss if you never returned. Fortunately, you eventually did."

Michael glanced down at the formation.

"And this?"

The first man shrugged.

"That was the expensive solution."

He walked toward one side of the basement and kicked something. A pile of objects slid across the stone floor.

Clothes. Shoes. Several smaller personal belongings.

Michael's eyes moved toward them.

"We couldn't find you directly," the man explained, "so we stopped trying to find you."

"We connected you to the formation instead."

The second figure crouched and picked up one of the shirts.

"Things you've worn. Things you've touched repeatedly. Objects that have remained around you for long periods."

He tossed it back down.

"Everything carries traces."

The first man continued.

"Normally, that's nowhere near enough to produce something like this, especially against someone with sufficient strength. So we used a treasure as the foundation."

"A very expensive treasure," the other man complained.

The first figure continued.

"The treasure established the connection. The formation amplified it. Your belongings gave us enough traces to anchor your fate to the spell."

Michael's expression became slightly more serious.

Fate.

Thanks to Jester, Michael knew just how terrifying the matter of fate was. With it in the picture, something as ridiculous as this did seem possible.

The two seemed rather proud of themselves as they continued speaking, but Michael barely heard them anymore. His attention had settled completely on the pile.

There were several objects he recognized. One thing they all shared in common was they were from his apartment in aurora.

Michael stared at them, and he felt genuinely stupid.

It wasn't entirely his fault to dismiss such a small detail, but against this bunch of experienced monsters who had lived for an unknown amount of years, he had indeed been careless and naive.

Michael felt a burning rage in his chest as his gaze continued moving through the pile. Then his expression froze on a few things there that weren't his.

A piece of Aunt Mia's clothing.

Another belonging he recognized as Lily's.

Then Michael noticed several more.

His eyes slowly moved downward.

Among the pile were undergarments. They weren't his.

Some belonged to Aunt Mia. Others belonged to Lily.

Michael stared at them.

His earlier embarrassment at overlooking such an obvious vulnerability vanished beneath something much colder.

Michael's fingers slowly curled.

More importantly, another thought appeared.

If their method worked through personal belongings…

Could they have targeted Aunt Mia? Could they have targeted Lily?

These two could have dragged Lily here instead of him. Perhaps even Aunt Mia.

The thought of either of them suddenly being pulled from their home and appearing inside this basement before these two made something inside Michael snap.

The two assassins were still talking. Michael no longer cared. His gaze remained fixed on the pile.

When he finally spoke, his voice had become noticeably quieter.

"Keep these two alive."

Both assassins stopped talking.

The one nearest the formation tilted his head.

"Who are you talking to?"

Michael didn't answer.

Something cold emerged from his body, and the ghost slipped out through his chest.

She was still tiny at first, barely larger than Michael's palm, but the instant she completely separated from him, her form expanded. Her feet never touched the ground. Long black hair drifted behind her as she floated beside Michael, and her silver eyes settled upon the two assassins.

The basement became cold as a thin layer of frost appeared across the floor.

The expressions beneath the two assassins' masks couldn't be seen, but their trembling bodies told Michael everything. The confidence that had filled the basement disappeared so completely it was almost amusing.

They were Peak Rank Four supernaturals. They knew what they were sensing.

"Demigod…"

The word escaped one man's mouth as barely more than a whisper.

The other assassin immediately looked toward the formations covering the basement walls. His voice trembled.

"No! That's impossible! The isolation formation is working! So how is a Demigod here?!"

It was then that realization struck the two: it wasn't that the formation wasn't working, but that the Demigod had already been summoned beforehand. Even before the circle appeared over Michael, the Demigod had already been inside him.

The ghost stared at them coldly.

Neither assassin attempted to run. There was nowhere to run, as they had personally ensured that the basement was isolated and the Void was locked. Spatial movement was impossible. Even their perception couldn't penetrate the formations surrounding them.

Everything they had designed to prevent Michael from escaping now ensured that no one outside would even know what happened inside.