Evolving My Undead Legion In A Game-Like World

Chapter 716: A New Face [Edited!!!!!]

They returned to the Federation station in tense silence.

Varun did not stop to speak with anyone. He gave short orders as he walked, his authority steady enough to keep the chaos from spilling over. Ruel stayed half a step behind him.

Michael followed him.

They reached the corridor that led to Varun’s office, but what the three of them had not expected when they opened the door was that someone was already inside.

There were two, actually.

One starborn and one human.

Michael’s eyes narrowed slightly.

The starborn was the one Michael had rescued.

As for why the starborn had not followed them to the first floor, the reason was simple. They had stated firmly that this was not a matter they should concern themselves with.

However, everyone at that meeting could tell the starborn was just being a coward and looking for a reason to cover it up, but since this reason itself was not a lie, there was nothing the Aurora humans could do.

To be honest, they would not have let the other party enter the first floor even if they had wanted to, as they were too weak to make any difference and their identity as a starborn was special.

Then there was the older man.

This one looked much older.

The older man stood near Varun’s desk as if it belonged to him.

He was not tall, yet he filled the room. His back was straight, shoulders squared, and his hands rested behind him in a calm clasp that looked practiced. His clothes were plain and dark, but they sat on him with an odd sharpness, as if even fabric was forced into discipline around his frame. His hair was cut short and neat, flecked with gray, and his face carried the kind of severity that did not come from age alone.

It came from a life of being used to authority.

Michael felt it the moment he stepped in.

It was not an aura in the normal sense. There was no raging pressure, no obvious killing intent, no wild energy flaring out to intimidate. In fact, the man looked almost ordinary at first glance.

Almost.

Then Michael’s eyes narrowed.

The space around the older man bent slightly.

Not enough to warp the room in any visible way, but enough that the air felt subtly wrong, like heat haze without heat. The corner of the desk near him looked a fraction closer than it should have been. The lamp beside Varun’s papers seemed to tilt in perspective when Michael focused on it. Even sound felt different, as if the room swallowed noise more quickly near the man’s position.

Varun stiffened.

Ruel’s hand twitched near his waist before he forced it to stop.

They had all felt this recently.

That phenomenon.

Suppression.

A supernatural above Rank three.

Michael’s fingers tightened slightly, and he was about to summon his spear before calming down.

The older man’s gaze slid toward them.

It was not hostile, but it was not warm either.

It was the look of someone measuring a situation in a single breath.

Then his eyes paused on Michael.

For a brief moment, the air in the room seemed to thicken.

Varun stepped forward first, as if instinct demanded he place himself between the stranger and the younger man behind him.

"Sir," Varun said, voice controlled, "we did not expect visitors in my office."

Though Varun did not know the man, based on the current situation, he could tell that this must be reinforcement from the Federation.

The older man gave a faint nod to Varun, acknowledging the boundary without apologizing for crossing it.

"I did not come for your comfort, Overseer Varun," he said. His voice was low and even. No wasted words. "I came because this station sent an emergency signal, and from this young starborn here, the situation seems to be more serious than I was briefed on."

Everyone’s eyes shifted to the starborn.

What do they want from me? the starborn complained inwardly, keeping his expression steady. Did they expect me to go against a Rank four?

The starborn race held status in countless regions. Even on Aurora, people knew enough to treat them carefully. In some places, a starborn could walk into a hall and have nobles rise without being asked.

But status did not turn into immortality.

A Rank four was a Rank four.

Even in civilizations that looked down on Aurora as "young" or "rough," a powerhouse like that was given respect by default. The only difference was how much respect.

And he was not royalty.

He was not some famous envoy with a fleet behind his name.

He was just a starborn who had been unlucky enough to be trapped in hell.

Unfortunately, Michael, Varun, and Ruel could not hear any of that.

To them, all they saw was the same thing.

Ruel’s eyes narrowed slightly.

Varun’s expression turned colder by a fraction.

Even Michael’s calm gaze gained a thin edge.

Troublesome, all three of them thought at the same time.

The starborn caught the change in their faces and kept smiling helplessly.

The older man continued without giving the starborn time to explain himself.

"According to the information I received," he said calmly, "the first floor was overrun entirely. Demonic supernaturals in numbers large enough to overwhelm standard defensive formations. The situation of the stationed officers was tagged as critically unstable and possibly nearly wiped out."

Varun’s jaw tightened. "That assessment is correct."

"The volume of hostile entities exceeded what a second-floor station is expected to handle," the old man went on. "Under normal circumstances, your personnel would have been forced to retreat."

The old man’s gaze shifted, briefly settling on the starborn again.

"This one reported that you people later went to the first floor again after receiving assistance from an external force," he said. "A necromancer. One capable of commanding multiple Rank three undead simultaneously."

His eyes flicked toward Michael for a fraction of a second before returning to Varun.

"I find that claim difficult to accept at face value."

But he did not elaborate further yet, and instead, his tone hardened.

"Regardless, there is another issue that must be addressed."

Varun straightened instinctively.

"You abandoned standing orders," the old man said. "You moved between floors and engaged without authorization from higher command."

Varun met his gaze evenly. "If we had waited, the situation could have been worse."

The older man studied him for a moment. The space around him bent just a little more, as if pressure were being applied from all directions at once.

"That does not change protocol," he said. "Deviation, even when successful, still carries consequences."

Ruel clenched his teeth but said nothing.

The starborn’s smile stiffened.

"So," the older man continued, voice even, "once this situation is fully resolved, disciplinary action will be discussed. That includes failure to follow direct command structures before taking independent action."

From the words the old man said, it seemed he believed the second-floor soldiers had succeeded but at a great cost, but instead of talking, Varun and Ruel seemed to hesitate a bit.

Michael observed while deep in thought. Though the old man’s words were harsh, if he really thought as they suspected he was thinking, the punishment was normal, but the situation was not even like that.

Taking a deep breath and uncomfortable with the atmosphere, Michael spoke.

Michael broke the silence.

"Though they did not ask for orders before moving," he said calmly, "I think they deserve a little praise as well, sir."

The words landed in the room like a stone dropped into still water.

Varun turned his head slightly, eyes widening a fraction.

Ruel stiffened.

The older man’s gaze snapped to Michael.

"Praise?" he repeated, the word sharp. The air around him tightened, the subtle bend in space growing more pronounced. "You speak of praise when soldiers disobey orders and rush into a battlefield?"

His voice rose.

"Do the lives of the soldiers who were lost not matter to you?"

The pressure surged.

It was not directed, but everyone in the room felt it.

Michael did not move.

He looked at the old man, eyes steady.

"No," Michael said.

For a split second, the old man’s expression flared with anger.

Then Michael continued, tone unchanged.

"No soldiers died."

Absolute silence.

The bending space snapped back to normal as if whatever force sustained it had faltered.

The old man froze.

"What?" he said.

Varun straightened sharply. "He is telling the truth."

Ruel swallowed, then nodded. "There were injuries, yes. Severe ones. But no fatalities among our personnel."

The older man stared at them, eyes narrowing, searching for deception.

"How many?" he asked.

"Zero," Varun replied.

For the first time since they had entered the room, the old man’s composure cracked.

His brows drew together in disbelief.

"That is impossible," he said slowly.

The old man’s eyes shifted again, this time openly, and settled on Michael. He looked at him properly.

The room felt different under that scrutiny.

This time, there was something new in it.

Caution.