Evolving My Undead Legion In A Game-Like World

Chapter 697: Troublesome Demon?

Michael summoned another creature from the damaged coffin of the forgotten.

This undead was a bit special. It was the very one Michael had used to exchange for his dead undead back at the unified college exams.

But here was the thing.

Why had there been only one undead exchanged when he had lost more than one?

It was because this undead, though lower in raw power, was far more precious than any of Michael’s own. He could not deny it. How could he?

This was an extraordinary-rank creature whose function was to serve as an extra life for its host. When alive, it had been a parasite-type creature. One could even consider it living armor.

It fed on its host’s life force to survive, and when the host was injured, it returned all that stored energy to heal them. It was reusable so long as it never gave away every last drop of life energy and always kept enough to slowly recharge.

Michael had taken the worm’s corpse and revived it.

Yes, even after death the worm remained useful. It had simply dropped one grade and could now only bond with creatures of that lower rank.

It practically screamed "treasure for necromancers," yet because it was rare-rank, only Rank 2 necromancers could truly appreciate it, and even among them few could afford one.

Michael just happened to be one of the rare few. Unknown to others, he was the only one who could eventually return the worm to its previous rank and perhaps take it even higher in the future.

So why was Michael bringing the worm out now?

Was it because it had healing abilities?

Yes, it did. After Michael reached Rank 3 and regained the luck tied to the law of life, the worm recovered the ability to heal others even without spending its own stored energy. It could now do so purely through the law abilities Michael granted it.

Michael placed the tiny body of the worm on the Starborn’s head. Soon the worm’s body began to glow.

Thirty seconds later, Michael returned the worm (currently nicknamed the louse worm) to his coffin space and waited for the now fully healed Starborn to regain consciousness.

He did not have to wait long.

A faint shiver ran through the Starborn’s body. The tiny points of starlight under its skin flickered, then brightened. Its eyelids trembled once, twice, and slowly opened.

Two pupils like molten silver stared up at the sky, unfocused at first, then sharpening with sudden awareness.

The moment the Starborn saw Michael and Spartan standing over it, its eyes widened in alarm.

Before Michael could say a single word, the Starborn reacted.

A burst of radiant light pulsed through its body. Metallic particles surged from beneath its skin, coating its entire frame in shining, star-forged armor within a heartbeat. The transformation was smooth, flawless, and instantaneous.

A circular burst of energy erupted at its feet. Sand blasted outward as the Starborn shot backward in a sudden retreat.

The Starborn tried to flee.

Well, it tried.

As the armored figure launched away, Michael’s hand shot forward with casual precision. His fingers closed around the Starborn’s ankle.

The creature froze mid-movement, suspended in the air like a caught insect.

Michael’s voice was calm. "Where do you think you’re going without saying thank you?"

The Starborn flailed once, its armor shimmering as defensive mechanisms activated. Thin lines of light crawled across its body, forming protective seals and shifting layers. Even Michael’s expression changed slightly at the sight.

This was not ordinary armor.

It was advanced, elegant, and adaptable. It reminded Michael of Rynne’s armor, except this one was even more refined and sleeker.

The Starborn twisted in his grip, its voice muffled beneath the metallic mask. "Let go... let go... let go!"

Michael raised a brow.

He held the ankle effortlessly, as if the struggling being weighed no more than a small bird.

The power generated by the armor was actually not weak. Not quite Rank 3 yet, but very close.

Spartan stepped closer, adjusting his glasses. "It appears they are frightened, Master."

"I noticed," Michael said dryly.

The Starborn tried again to yank its leg free, each pull accompanied by a small explosion. The armor changed shape subtly with every attempt, reinforcing the joints, shifting the plating, preparing for the next maneuver. It was fascinating to watch.

Michael looked at the metal sheen thoughtfully.

"I have to admit," he said, "this is interesting. Very interesting."

The Starborn froze, finally realizing that no amount of struggling would work.

Slowly, the armored head turned. Those molten-silver eyes met Michael’s calm gaze.

For the first time, the Starborn spoke clearly. "W... who are you?"

Michael smiled faintly. "The person who saved your life."

The armor dimmed slightly, as if reacting to the Starborn’s confusion. The being hesitated, then asked in a quieter voice, "...I am not dead?"

"No," Michael replied. "You were close, but not anymore."

Silence settled for a moment.

The Starborn trembled faintly, the armor shifting back into a more stable form. Its voice was softer now, almost breathless. "Then... why did you help me?"

Michael’s fingers loosened around the ankle, though he didn’t release it yet.

"Because leaving someone to die when I can save them is not something I do," he answered simply.

The Starborn blinked.

Spartan "cleared" his "throat." "You should be grateful."

Michael ignored him.

Instead, he looked at the Starborn’s armor again, eyes narrowing with interest. "But if you want to run off into the desert, at least say something before you disappear."

The Starborn lowered its gaze. "...Thank you."

Michael nodded once. "Good. Now let us talk."

He released the ankle. The being dropped lightly onto the red sand, armor glinting under the crimson sky.

The Starborn straightened slowly, still wary but no longer trying to flee.

Michael folded his arms. "Now then... why is a Starborn lying half-dead on the second floor of Hell?"

The Starborn swallowed.

And the answer that came next made Michael’s eyes narrow.

"Because... I was fleeing from something."

The air shifted.

"Something," Michael repeated quietly. "Or someone?"

The Starborn hesitated, then whispered, "...Both."

"It was a demon."

The heat of the red desert suddenly felt heavier.

And Michael realized this encounter was no coincidence at all.

Well, it actually was a coincidence... for now.

Michael watched the Starborn in silence for a moment, then spoke. "Good. You can stand and talk, so start explaining."

The silver eyes flickered. Under the armor, the Starborn’s throat moved in a dry swallow.

"...Explain?"

"Yes." Michael tilted his head slightly. "Why are you here? Why were you almost dead? And why did you try to run the moment you woke up?"

The Starborn looked from Michael to Spartan, then back again. The armor shifted faintly, plates relaxing just a little.

"I was not supposed to be here," the Starborn said softly. "My strength is enough to train on the twentieth floor. I only came down here because I was forced to."

"The twentieth floor," Michael repeated. "You were training there?"

The Starborn nodded once.

"In my race, we come here in teams," it said. "The twentieth floor is within our safe range. Normally."

Michael narrowed his eyes. "Normally," he repeated. "So what changed?"

The Starborn’s fingers curled at its side. Light shifted nervously along the armor.

"A demon appeared," it said. "Not one of the natives. It suddenly appeared, ignored our barriers as if they were paper, and started killing everything in sight."

Michael’s gaze sharpened slightly. "How strong?"

The Starborn hesitated, then looked at him more closely.

"Before that," it said, "I need to know something. Are you a local cultivator or an Awakener?"

Michael blinked once.

"A local cultivator," the Starborn explained quickly, "is someone who uses the native supernatural system of this realm: techniques, realms, paths that belong only to your world. An Awakener uses the more universal system, rank-based, with a standard structure. I need to know which one you follow to explain properly."

Michael answered without hiding anything. "I am an Awakener."

The Starborn fell quiet for a breath, as if recalibrating how to speak.

"In that case," it said slowly, "the demon’s strength was at Rank 3... but it felt like it was already touching the realm above. Like it was only half a step away from Rank 4."

Michael’s eyes narrowed.

"Half a step," he said.

The Starborn nodded again, this time with more conviction.

"Our captain was a solid Rank 3, mid-stage, with a specialization in suppression fields. Even with every protocol activated, it did not matter. The demon broke through our defenses, destroyed our shields, and almost wiped the team in less than a minute."

*

A/N: Happy last day of the month, everyone! As we close out the final month of the year, thank you all for sticking with me this far. I hope the new month treats us well and that we’ll ring in the new year together.

As a little thank-you, I’d like to make a short comic episode for the novel. Please let me know which fight you’d rather see:

Michael vs. Rynne

Michael vs. Brian

Thank you so much for reading!