Evolving My Undead Legion In A Game-Like World

Chapter 479: Chapter 479 Solutions

Still, Michael wasn’t without options.

In fact, he had already come up with three potential solutions.

The first was the most obvious—ask for assistance from Duke Evermoon.

Michael grimaced at the thought of this.

It wasn’t that he hated the Duke. On the contrary, the man had been fair, even generous. But the reason Michael had chosen Thornvale was because of its distance from the capital. He wanted freedom—room to grow and act independently.

Asking for help now might deepen their ties.

And while that wasn’t inherently bad, it also meant more attention.

Michael was already satisfied with the current relationship. He wasn’t eager to promote it unless needed.

The second solution was to dip into his personal wealth.

Michael still had a little over five million gold coins.

It was more than enough to get Thornvale back on its feet.

This option was far more appealing. He controlled it, and he could allocate resources however he wished.

But... once gone, it might be difficult to recover.

The third solution was the most complex but arguably the most efficient.

It was to use the combined logistics of both the Land of Origin and Aurora.

Some materials would take weeks to procure within Thornvale—if they could even be found locally.

But in Aurora, thanks to the Supernatural Association, they were easily obtainable. Likewise, food could also be sourced from his origin world.

In the end, barring the first option, Michael would still have to spend a significant chunk of his wealth.

But if Thornvale was managed well, it could pay off tenfold.

After all, Thornvale wasn’t poor. It was rich in resources. The problem wasn’t a lack of resources—it was mismanagement.

Handled right, it could become a thriving territory. A true power base. A profitable territory.

And not just here.

In both worlds.

Aurora and the Land of Origin.

Michael’s eyes flickered.

Some people would think Awakeners only used the Supers Association to buy items.

But there was another side.

They could also sell.

Monster corpses were valuable, yes—but rare materials? Priceless.

And Michael had plenty of them here. After they were harvested again, that is.

Michael could already envision it—using rare materials from the Land of Origin to sell in aurora

Establishing trade routes between the worlds. Building networks, forming alliances and so on.

If he played this right, Thornvale could become more than a territory.

It could become a hub.

Of course, this would need careful planning so he doesn’t end up implicating himself.

A smile tugged at Michael’s lips.

Michael folded the parchment and leaned back in his seat.

But even as his eyes swept the room, his thoughts weren’t here.

He hadn’t shifted the majority of his consciousness there just to attend to the suffocating bureaucracy of Thornvale.

The real reason... was unfinished business.

One monster.

One that had haunted him in the past.

The only creature that had made him feel helpless—truly helpless—since awakening.

He could still remember the chilling moment.

The one time he was closest to death after transmigrating.

He could still remember it clearly.

His thoughts weren’t his. His limbs didn’t move when he willed them to.

And worst of all—his system, one that he thought then could not communicate and only showed stats, had actually recommended him to commit suicide to avoid death.

If it hadn’t been for Lucky and Prince who attacked the newly awakened monster, he might have actually died.

If that monster had existed in Aurora, in his origin world, he wouldn’t have been as disturbed. At least there, he knew it was possible to truly die.

But in the Land of Origin, where he assumed he was safe showed him he wasn’t.

It showed him that death could come anywhere, even in a place designed for growth.

He had almost developed a trauma—but fortunately, the monster that caused it was dead. And ironically, it had even contributed significantly to his current growth.

Just as Michael was about to stand up and find somewhere he could have a moment to himself, a knock came at the door.

He sighed.

"Come in."

The door creaked open—and in stepped Ace and Lia.

The two boys who had once tried to rob him back in the capital City.

And yet, somehow... they were now his personal assistants.

Assistants to a noble.

Michael blinked slowly, the irony never failing to amuse him.

They had chosen it themselves, of course.

After that failed robbery and the series of events that followed, they had followed him across worlds—Michael had developed quite a bit of emotion for them.

Now here they were.

Of course, it’s definitely not because he liked how they worked for him and found himself too lazy to start again with someone knew.

Though it had barely been two days since their arrival, they looked like they’d been through hell.

Disheveled hair. Eye bags. Wrinkled clothes. A visible layer of dust and frustration clinging to them like a curse.

All this because Michael—Lord Mic, as he was now known in the Land of Origin—had given them their first assignment:

Run the manor.

Not just tidy it up.

Run it.

Coordinate, record, command. Manage staff.

It didn’t take a genius to understand what Michael was doing.

Anyone with two eyes could see it.

He was testing them.

And they didn’t want to fail.

They couldn’t fail.

Because they both knew—this wasn’t just some errand. It was a chance. A real chance.

One they would never get again.

But heavens... the manor was a mess.

It would’ve been one thing if the old steward had kept things running properly before Michael detained him. But he hadn’t.

The man had treated the estate like his personal playground. One that he didn’t particularly treasure too.

And as Ace had shouted earlier that morning—

"There’s a whole storeroom filled with receipts for nothing! Who the hell keeps a receipt for air?!"

Now, standing in the doorway of Michael’s temporary study, the two boys looked like they had aged five years.

Ace stepped forward first, tone clipped but respectful. "Apologies, Lord Mic. We know you’re resting, but... we need signatures. Five of them. One for the request to replace seven cooks—because apparently, none of them can cook. One for the—"

"Pause," Michael said, raising a hand.

He gestured toward the seats across from him.

"Sit. Breathe. Then start again."

Lia immediately collapsed into the chair like a dying man. Ace followed, a little more reserved but equally grateful.

Michael studied them both.

They were tired. But not broken.

That was a good sign.

Maybe they’d survive this after all.

"Tell me," Michael said, voice calm. "What’s the most pressing issue right now?"