Evolving My Undead Legion In A Game-Like World

Chapter 718: Questioning [2] (Edited!!)

In his mind, the answer could only fall within two unreasonable possibilities.

Sixteen years old. Two years ago.

Or seventeen. One year ago.

Either would already defy common sense.

Michael answered calmly.

"This year."

The words hung in the air.

For a heartbeat, no one reacted.

Then the Starborn’s eyes widened. Thanks to his presence, everyone had been using the universal language almost instinctively from the start, and this was one of those moments.

"This year?" he asked shakily, disbelief slipping into his voice. "Are you saying you have only been a supernatural for a year?"

Michael nodded. "Half a year."

Varun felt his throat go dry.

Ruel’s mind went blank.

The old man stared at Michael as if he were looking at something that should not exist.

Half a year.

Half a year, and he was commanding multiple Rank three undead, and had even come close to killing a Rank four powerhouse.

When that thought crossed the old man’s mind, awe turned into something closer to fear. If that was the case, did this not mean Michael could also kill him?

The old man did not speak immediately.

The faint warmth that had entered his expression cooled into something heavier and more deliberate.

"Do you have a family?" he asked.

The room seemed to tighten again, though the pressure was subtler this time. Michael felt it clearly.

Still, he answered honestly.

"I live with my aunt," Michael said. "I do not have parents."

The old man blinked once.

At first, confusion crossed his face. Then realization followed.

This youth did not seem to belong to any clan.

Even so, the old man could not understand why he had never heard of someone like Michael. With his current prowess, this was the kind of individual one out of every seven supernaturals would at least know by name.

And yet...

"Your aunt," the old man said carefully. "She is not affiliated with any supernatural organization?"

"No, sir," Michael replied.

Silence returned.

The old man leaned back slightly, hands clasped behind him again.

An ordinary background.

No clan support.

And he would not have spent more than a few months in any Awakener academy. Three months at most. Hardly enough time for structured training to explain what he had witnessed.

This was Michael alone.

The old man’s interest deepened, no longer concealed.

This boy had a secret, he thought.

Just as he was about to continue speaking, there was a knock at the door.

Varun turned sharply. "Enter."

The door opened, and a uniformed soldier stepped inside. The moment he crossed the threshold, his eyes swept the room and widened. He stiffened visibly when he noticed who was present. His gaze lingered on the man in the suit for half a second, then slid to Michael.

He swallowed.

Almost unconsciously, he took a step back.

Specifically, away from Michael.

The movement did not go unnoticed.

Varun’s brows drew together. "What is it?" he demanded. "Why are you acting like that?"

The soldier flinched at the irritation in Varun’s voice. He straightened, snapped a salute, then hesitated again before speaking.

"Sir," he said, voice tight, "we just received an urgent report."

"From where?" Varun asked.

"The lower floors," the soldier replied.

The old man’s eyes narrowed slightly.

The soldier continued, forcing the words out. "On the fifteenth floor, an almost Emperor class demon has been detected."

The Starborn went pale.

Varun’s hand clenched into a fist. "Repeat that."

"An almost Emperor class demon," the soldier said again. "Confirmed by multiple informants and survivor reports. It is moving upward."

"How fast?" the old man asked calmly.

The soldier hesitated, then answered. "Rapidly, sir."

Far below, deep within Hell, a chamber of shattered stone trembled as a fist slammed into the ground.

Cracks spread outward like spiderwebs. Jagged debris lifted, then collapsed in a violent cascade.

Brian stood at the center of it, chest heaving, eyes burning with barely restrained rage.

"Damn it!" he roared, striking the wall again. "That worm. That nobody."

The echoes had barely faded when a slow clap sounded from the shadows.

Clap. Clap. Clap.

Brian froze.

A gray robed figure leaned casually against a broken pillar, half his face hidden in darkness.

"Impressive," the figure said lightly. "Still throwing tantrums like a child."

Brian’s eyes snapped toward him. "Say that again."

"Oh?" the man tilted his head. "Did I hit a nerve?" He took a step forward, hands clasped behind his back. "You have more than one class, resources poured into you since birth, and yet you still could not deal with a single classmate."

Brian’s aura flared violently.

"Shut up," he growled.

The gray figure chuckled. "Touched a nerve after all." His eyes gleamed. "Tell me, Brian, how does it feel to lose to someone with nothing? No backing. No lineage. Just raw growth."

Brian lunged.

He did not even see the movement.

The air vanished from his lungs as invisible pressure slammed into his chest. His feet left the ground and he crashed into the wall, coughing violently.

The gray figure was suddenly in front of him, fingers pressed lightly against Brian’s throat.

"Careful," the man said softly. "Though you are the precious son of the Vice Hall Master, that does not mean you can speak to me however you wish."

Brian’s eyes burned with fury, but he did not move.

The man leaned closer, his voice dropping into a whisper filled with mockery. "You are the one with everything, yet you still fall short. Do you know how pathetic that looks? Perhaps if you had managed to send him to a cultivation academy, this entire plan might have been a success. But because of your incompetence in something so minor, he is causing us trouble now."

"It’s not my fault," Brian muttered.

"Still making excuses?" the man replied calmly.

Brian clenched his fists, nails biting into his palms.

The pressure vanished, and he collapsed to one knee, gasping.

The gray robed man straightened and turned away, his tone suddenly bored.

"Enough. Your rage is loud, but useless."