Evolving My Undead Legion In A Game-Like World

Chapter 612: Senior

Michael spoke subtly. In times like these, it was best not to reveal too much. The fact that this company’s name contained Edge and that it stood at the exact coordinates the academy email had provided was already suspicious enough. Whether it was a coincidence or intentional, he couldn’t yet say.

For a moment, the woman blinked in surprise before her eyes softened with understanding. "Ah, so you’re one of the new students," she said, her professional smile returning. "My apologies. Since the official start date is still a week away, we haven’t fully arranged the reception schedules for early arrivals. Most new students usually come around that time."

Michael nodded slightly, understanding her words.

"However," she continued, glancing toward a floating display that flickered to life beside her, "you’re not the first to arrive early. A few new students came in the past few days... and even one earlier today."

Her gaze returned to him as she smiled again. "Please wait a moment, Mr. Michael. I’ll call someone to take over from here."

"Thank you," Michael replied softly.

As he spoke, he reached up and removed his tinted glasses, revealing the faint emerald glow in his eyes. The receptionist froze mid-motion. For a moment, her professionalism faltered. Her lips parted slightly as if she’d forgotten what she was about to say.

It wasn’t her fault. Michael’s appearance had that effect on people.

There was something almost unreal about him, an aura that carried quiet authority rather than arrogance. When paired with his voice, smooth and low, it became disarming.

Putting aside the various changes in his body, what Michael was also unaware of was that his act of pretending to be a noble back in the Land of Origin had left its mark on him.

The lady recovered quickly, blinking herself back into composure. "I’ll... I’ll call someone now," she said, her tone a bit stiffer than before.

A faint confusion flickered across Michael’s face, but he didn’t comment.

A few minutes later, a young woman entered the lobby through one of the side corridors. She looked to be in her early twenties, with light brown hair tied into a neat bun. Spotting Michael, she approached with an easy stride, her eyes carrying both curiosity and confidence.

"Hello," she said with a bright smile, extending her hand. "I’m Lira, a second-year student at Veraunt’s Edge. My instructor asked me to help with early arrivals."

Michael nodded, shaking her hand briefly. "Michael Norman," he said simply.

Her expression shifted the moment she heard the name. "Norman?" she repeated, blinking before her eyes widened slightly. "Wait—you’re that Michael?"

Her tone carried surprise and disbelief, drawing faint attention from the nearby drones. She covered her mouth for a second, as if catching herself. "Sorry! It’s just—everyone’s been talking about you!"

Why wouldn’t they?

Putting aside the students who had been accepted early and didn’t need to participate in the college exams, most others did.

And in the unified exams of the top ten first-rank academies, Michael alone was responsible for more than sixty percent of the total casualties.

It was a new record!

Not that there hadn’t been impressive figures in the history of the ten academies—but just as they stood in a league of their own, so did Michael.

Michael was also surprised that someone would actually recognize him. Then, remembering what he had done during the exam trial a week ago, he couldn’t help but let out a small, bitter smile. Hopefully, this wouldn’t affect his school life.

Lira soon calmed down, though a faint excitement still lingered in her expression. Michael wondered if this was how a senior was supposed to act toward a junior. She seemed far too cheerful.

What Michael didn’t think of was that not every junior was like him and not every senior was a powerhouse.

After reaching Rank 2, leveling up became exponentially harder for most and there were many factors involved.

As supernaturals, their focus wasn’t only on combat or strength. Learning new techniques, studying different mana applications, and participating in specialized crafts all took immense time and effort. Building a solid foundation for future advancement mattered more than rushing to increase levels.

Just because someone was awakened didn’t mean they were a powerhouse.

Freaks like Michael were rare. But even so, he wasn’t perfect. Power alone didn’t make someone complete, and Michael knew better than anyone that compared to others, his strength came with missing pieces.

Aside from raw strength, he lacked substance in almost every other thing.

In a strange way, it was proof that the world still had balance.

Michael eventually decided to steer the conversation elsewhere. "So," he said, his tone calm, "is the academy really just this building?"

Lira blinked, then let out a short laugh. "Of course not," she replied, amusement flickering in her eyes. "This is only the main checkpoint."

"Checkpoint?" Michael repeated, raising a brow.

Her smile turned slightly mysterious. "You’ll understand soon enough," she said, turning toward the corridor. "Follow me."

Michael followed her, his steps echoing softly across the polished floor. The further they walked, the quieter the building became, the faint hum of drones and reception chatter fading into distant murmurs. Eventually, they stopped before a set of sleek, metal-paneled doors.

He noticed then that they were standing before an elevator.

Lira placed her palm against the glowing panel beside the door. A soft chime echoed, and a holographic display appeared, scanning her identity before granting access.

"After you," she said with a light smile as the doors slid open.

Michael stepped in, his eyes instinctively scanning the interior. It was larger than a normal elevator, built to hold several people comfortably

When Lira entered beside him, she pressed the last button on the display—B12. The furthest and final floor.

Michael blinked. "An underground floor?"

"Mm," she hummed, her lips curving slightly. "That’s right."

The elevator began its descent, smooth and silent. The lights along the walls dimmed, replaced by faint blue illumination as the floors ticked by one after another—B1, B2, B3...

Michael watched quietly, his reflection faintly visible on the metallic walls. "So the real academy isn’t on the surface."

Lira gave a small, knowing smile. "You could say that."