Evolving My Undead Legion In A Game-Like World

Chapter 722: Amazari Race (Edited!!!)

If there was one thing Michael envied about Rank Three creatures, it was their spatial abilities. The rest were simply things he naturally desired.

Tasks that would have taken him a long time to accomplish by running were completed in a matter of seconds by others.

Michael also noticed that this old soldier possessed a far superior spatial ability and range compared to those who had previously transported him using spatial teleportation. He suspected this had something to do with the level of understanding a Rank Four creature possessed compared to a Rank Three. After all, these were beings who had already begun forming the prototype of an actual world.

Each of them was vastly different from the general supernatural populace.

The pressure vanished as suddenly as it had appeared.

"We have arrived," the old man said calmly.

Michael’s senses snapped outward.

They were floating in midair.

Below them stretched a vast forest settlement that stood in stark contrast to the barren desert of the second floor. Towering trees with thick, twisting trunks formed a natural canopy, their leaves woven together with platforms, bridges, and elevated halls. Wooden structures spiraled upward along living trunks, reinforced with stone and metal, blending nature and fortification into a single whole.

Beyond the forest’s edge, the sand resumed its dominance, an endless sea of pale red gold pressing against the greenery like a hostile tide.

"This is the Amazari domain," Varun said quietly.

Michael could already feel it.

Eyes.

Not just one or two, but many.

The old man glanced downward, then spoke in a low, even tone.

"Let us descend," he said. "Hovering above their settlement is an excellent way to be mistaken for intruders."

He paused briefly.

"And that would make conversation difficult."

Varun nodded at once. "Understood."

With a subtle shift of intent, the pressure beneath Michael’s feet softened. The invisible force holding them aloft guided them downward in a smooth, controlled descent.

They did not land on the ground completely, instead floating steadily toward the Amazari settlement. As they drifted closer, Michael’s thoughts turned to what he knew of the Amazari.

In this race, women were the unquestioned dominant gender.

It was not a matter of tradition or belief. It was biology.

From the outside, some races mistakenly assumed this structure was cultural favoritism.

It was not.

A female Amazari was simply stronger.

Even when both genders awakened as supernaturals, unless the male held a clear advantage, the female was almost always superior in direct combat. A male Amazari was not useless, but compared to their women, he was frail.

As a result, their society had adapted accordingly.

The Amazari were a neutral race within the universe. They neither sought conquest nor submitted easily. While they could not match the technological dominance of Aurora or the combined might of the Starborn realms and demonic supernaturals, nor rival the ancient supremacy of the elven civilizations, they were far from weak.

They were considered an upper tier race.

One that stood above many others and had several races beneath them.

That was why they mattered now. Among the races stationed on the second floor of Hell, they were the most likely to provide meaningful support. In a situation like this, another Rank Four or at least a capable high tier ally would be required.

They were barely a few hundred meters from the forest’s outer canopy when space rippled.

Four presences forced their way into existence ahead of them through spatial means.

The four figures stood between them and the forest.

Michael’s perception swept over them automatically.

Rank Three.

All four of them.

His senses confirmed it a heartbeat later.

They were all women.

Their appearances were striking even before one considered their presence.

Each of the four stood well over two meters tall. Their builds were broad and powerful, shoulders wide, waists narrow, and limbs thick with compact muscle, built in a way that made even trained human soldiers appear narrow by comparison.

Their skin tones varied slightly, ranging from deep bronze to warm earthen brown.

Their hair was worn practically. One had her hair cut short and close to the scalp, coarse and dark like blackened iron. Another wore thick braids bound tightly behind her head, each braid reinforced with thin metal rings etched with simple symbols.

The third kept her hair tied into a high knot, strands of dark green-black falling loosely around her temples. The last wore hers long but pulled back into a tight tail, the length reaching past her shoulders without interfering with her movements.

Their faces were angular and sharp, cheekbones pronounced, jaws strong. None of them could be called soft or delicate by conventional standards, yet there was a harsh, commanding beauty to them. Their eyes were especially notable, with irises that ranged from dark amber to muted gold, reflecting the forest light like a predator’s gaze.

Their armor caught Michael’s attention immediately.

At first glance, it looked almost medieval.

But the moment Michael’s senses brushed against it, he knew it was far stronger than it appeared.

Among the four women, the one standing at the front stepped half a pace forward. Her hair was bound tightly behind her head, her eyes sharp and assessing as they swept across the group before lingering on the old man.

Then she bowed her head slightly.

"I send my greetings. Who may we host, you strangers?" she said.

The old man returned the gesture with a shallow nod. "We seek an audience."

Her gaze flickered to Michael next. It was hard to read before shifting to the Starborn. Her brow creased briefly, then she looked back at Varun, recognizing the uniform and insignia.

"State your purpose," she said.

"We come with a matter concerning Hell," Varun replied calmly. "One that may concern all races stationed within it."

The Amazari warrior did not answer immediately.

Her gaze sharpened, then shifted past Varun, fixing fully on the old man. For a brief moment, the forest seemed to still, as if waiting for her next words.

"Does this," she asked slowly, "have anything to do with the loose Demon Lord of the Thirteenth Floor?"

The question landed like a hammer.

Several of Aurora’s people and one of the Starborn inhaled sharply.

For an instant, everything clicked into place.

It was not that powerful demons did not exist. They did. If they did not, Hell itself would have long since collapsed. But seeing one manifest in the early floors was abnormal.

Unless it was the Thirteenth.

The Thirteenth Floor occupied a strange position within Hell’s hierarchy. It lay well below the truly shallow layers, yet far above the deep dominions where demon lords ruled entire floors as absolute sovereigns. Everything above the Thirtieth Floor was classified as the early floors.

Michael’s eyes narrowed slightly.

The Thirteenth Floor’s lord had been killed countless times throughout history. Whenever it resurrected, guardians from multiple races stationed on that floor would descend upon it almost immediately and erase it again. The balance had held for centuries.

So what was different now?

They had all assumed something had gone wrong with the guardians below when news of a powerful demon appearing in the early floors spread. But now it seemed the problem originated directly from the Thirteenth Floor itself, not from the Twentieth where the Starborn had first encountered it.

Varun’s expression tightened. Even the old man’s eyes darkened slightly.

"You are aware of this?" the old man asked.

The Amazari warrior nodded once. "We received news recently. After confirming a few records, it was not difficult to connect the dots."

Her expression hardened slightly, her gaze shifting from the old man to the forest behind her, as though weighing how much to reveal.

"There is more," she said. "Before news of the Demon Lord reached us, we uncovered unrest within our own lands."

"A faction," she continued, her voice steady but cold. "One of our more stubborn groups was planning something coordinated that involved forces beyond the second floor."

Her eyes narrowed.

"Fortunately, an elder of our people was able to put a stop to the plan before it could begin."

Michael’s gaze sharpened.

Plans with other groups.

Other realms.

Something about the timing felt wrong.

"They were not acting alone," the Amazari warrior said calmly. "That much is certain as other races aside from your people and my people have experienced some sort of rebellion in a short time."

No one spoke.

But the glance the old man gave Varun was sharp enough to draw blood.

Sweat beaded at Varun’s temple as the realization set in that Aurora’s intelligence had been severely misinformed.

The fact that they didn’t even know what was happening to their neighbors was enough proof.

The Amazari warrior exhaled slowly.

"Given what you have brought to us," she said, "and what we have uncovered ourselves, this matter is not something I can handle alone."

She straightened.

"It would be best for you to speak with someone higher."

The old man did not hesitate.

"Then lead the way," he said.