Evolving My Undead Legion In A Game-Like World

Chapter 755: Peak of Rank 3 (Requesting for Golden Tickets!!!)

In any other place, among any other race, that title alone would be enough to inspire awe. A being destined to stand above countless others.

But here, among entities who had brushed against Rank Four calamities and survived, the weight of the words was different.

The Khar’veth leader clicked his tongue. "That’s a pity."

The Virellion said nothing, but her gaze lingered on Michael longer than before.

Even the elf felt it.

A faint sense of regret stirred within her.

A holy child reduced before his time was wasteful. Inefficient. Such existences were rare even among elves.

But that feeling passed quickly.

An ordinary genius was still valuable to most races.

Just not to hers.

Her expression returned to indifference.

"If he survives," she said, turning away, "he will still be strong."

Strong enough to matter.

But not strong enough to be worth concern.

The Khar’veth leader stared at the unconscious youth for a long moment, jaw tight, then clicked his tongue again.

"I disagree," he said.

The Virellion’s gaze shifted to him. The female elf did not react, but her attention sharpened slightly.

The Khar’veth continued, his voice rough. "You two are only looking at the ridiculous number of undead he lost. You forgot that even what he has left is still perverted."

That single sentence was enough to jolt the other two out of their drifting conclusions.

The Virellion’s eyes narrowed slightly.

The elf’s expression remained indifferent, but her pupils contracted.

They remembered.

Prince, who stood in the chaos like a silent executioner, feeding on enemy souls to strengthen himself with every kill.

Spartan’s abyss flames, black and ravenous, devouring matter and energy alike as if the world itself had no right to resist.

Lucky, whose fire poison had brought down a Rank Four drakeblood given time and a single opening.

The ant, a ridiculous little thing with strength that did not match its size.

The female giant that could devour nearly anything.

The mysterious mantis.

And the two flying undead snake illusions that looked unreal, except for the moments when they were very much real.

And then there was Michael himself.

They did not know what his law truly was.

They only knew what it had shown.

A Rank Two at the peak, matching Rank Three elites who had already touched laws. In some moments, even pressuring them. In others, doing things that should not have been possible for someone at his stage.

That was not luck.

That was not a one time miracle.

That was a foundation.

The Virellion exhaled softly. "Even weakened," she admitted, "he is still abnormal."

The Khar’veth leader snorted. "Exactly."

He nodded toward the youth, then toward the undead standing guard.

"He’s only Rank Two," the Khar’veth said. "Do you understand that? Only Rank Two. This is not his limit."

The female elf’s gaze finally moved from Michael to the line of undead again.

She evaluated them.

Then she spoke, her tone unchanged.

"If he survives," she said, "and recovers to a reasonable extent, yes."

She paused.

"He will still be strong."

The Virellion’s lips pressed together. "And he can still grow."

The Khar’veth grinned, his single remaining arm hanging at his side, expression fierce despite the blood and stumps.

"He will get stronger," he said. "That’s the terrifying part."

For a moment, none of them spoke.

A sudden roar shattered the stillness.

Space itself shuddered as the sound burst outward, compressing the air into visible ripples. The ground trembled. Cracks raced across the already fractured terrain, widening as if something enormous had shifted its weight.

All three leaders turned at once.

Their gazes snapped toward the source.

At the far end of the ruined battlefield, within the fading remnants of the dark domain, a colossal figure straightened.

Beginning.

The titan rose to his full height, and the world seemed to shrink around him.

Sixty meters.

That was how tall he stood now.

His body was no longer jagged or unstable. The brutal rebirth had completed its work. Dense muscle layered over reinforced bone, his form thick and heavy.

And his aura was terrifying.

A crushing, oppressive presence that pressed down on everything nearby, making even Rank Three elites feel as if their cores were being gripped by an unseen hand.

For a brief instant, it did not feel much weaker than the two Rank Four existences that had just died.

But only for a brief instant.

The elf’s eyes narrowed.

"He has not ascended," she said.

The Virellion nodded slowly.

The Khar’veth leader inhaled deeply, his remaining arm tightening. "But look at him."

They could all tell.

Beginning had not crossed into Rank Four.

Yet.

But he stood at the very peak of Rank Three.

If Michael had been awake, he would have reached the same conclusion as them.

He would not even need to study Beginning’s aura or ask questions. It had already been made obvious elsewhere.

[Undead Titan - Level 75]

Just one more level. One more advancement and Beginning would ascend into the ranks of Rank 4 as a new creature.

Beginning tilted his massive head back and released another roar, shorter this time and lower, vibrating with restrained power rather than frenzy. The sound rolled outward, carrying a single, unmistakable message.

Do not come closer.

The Khar’veth leader let out a slow breath, something between a laugh and a sigh. "So even now, he still has this."

The Virellion’s voice was quiet. "If the youth survives and recovers, this thing alone is enough to secure his position."

The elf watched Beginning for a long moment.

Then she turned away.

"Rank Two," she said flatly. "With subordinates like this."

Her tone did not change, but something beneath it had shifted.

Meanwhile, in another part of Hell, a youth could be seen running wildly, as if escaping from something. Yet if one looked behind him, they would find nothing chasing him at all. He was running for reasons known only to himself.

If Michael were here, he would have recognized the youth.

It was Brian.

*

A/N; Last day of the month! Thank you all for the journey again! And please cast those last votes to make a poor author happy!!!!