Evolving My Undead Legion In A Game-Like World

Chapter 758: Condition

Though Michael’s health was of utmost importance, no one was going to attempt fighting a half-step Rank Four giant for him, especially not in the chaotic aftermath of such a brutal battle.

For one, none of the races present were in the right state to fight. Many were gravely wounded, exhausted from the prolonged clash against two Rank Four threats, and their forces had already been thinned considerably.

Even if they were at full strength, taking on Beginning in his enhanced state would require them to be prepared to lose at least half of their numbers, if not more, given the titan’s overwhelming power and the merciless nature of his Law of Brutal Rebirth.

Even if they included the old man, a suppressed Rank Four superpower capable of unleashing devastating force despite his restrictions, they could only hope that the other undead, aside from Beginning, would not attack. That hope was clearly unreasonable. The undead legion was fiercely loyal and relentless, and provoking them would turn the battlefield into an even greater slaughter.

Including the old man, none of the races present saw dying in a failed attempt to save someone as something a person with a functioning brain would choose to do.

Survival instincts ran deep among supernaturals who had clawed their way to Rank Three and beyond, and gambling everything on such a reckless intervention was pure folly.

Meanwhile, close to Michael, Spartan knelt beside his master’s body, his tattered robes hanging loosely. In his hand, he held a worm-like creature. The undead’s expression remained calm and composed, betraying no emotion despite the concern he felt for his master.

It was the Rank Three Life Worm, a precious undead known for its potent healing properties.

He had seen the creature crawl out of Michael’s body moments ago, its task apparently complete as far as physical injuries were concerned.

It turned out that before his master lost consciousness, or perhaps sometime just before that, Michael had wisely placed the Life Worm inside his body to stabilize his condition and mend the severe damage caused by overexertion and backlash. However, upon further inspection with his own senses, Spartan could tell that while his master’s physical condition was more or less healed thanks to the worm and Michael’s resilient constitution, his soul was far from being out of danger.

The loss of so many bonded undead had left deep scars on Michael’s soul, fractures that no mere physical healer could quickly mend.

Spartan, who was as knowledgeable as his master, if not more so in certain aspects, pondered deeply on what he could do to aid his recovery. His cold gaze then shifted toward the race leaders floating in midair, fixing specifically on the elf.

To the knowledgeable Spartan, the elves were a race renowned for their healing abilities.

Without hesitation, Spartan flew toward them.

Aside from the old man, who was neither intimidated by a mere Rank Three undead nor unfamiliar with Spartan’s presence during the battle, the other race leaders tensed up.

The sudden shift in atmosphere drew the old man’s full attention, but he was more focused on what the undead had to say, his curiosity piqued by the unexpected approach.

This was not his first time seeing Spartan during the battle. He already knew that this undead was particularly intelligent, far beyond typical mindless thralls.

At first glance, Spartan looked no different from a human, with refined features and an almost ethereal poise. Without closer inspection, and thanks to his particularly enchanting appearance that carried an unnatural allure, one might have mistaken him for a member of some rare undead race or higher variant.

Spartan was indeed undead, but in the universe, pure undead races capable of reproduction were rare, limited to beings such as vampires who maintained bloodlines and societies of their own.

Most undead like Spartan were created and bound to their creators, making them fundamentally different from races like vampires, who did not need to be raised from the dead.

Spartan stopped several steps away from the gathered leaders.

"Can you heal my master?" Spartan asked, his words directed generally, though his focus was clearly on the elf.

The elf fixed her gaze on him, her eyes clear and sharp. She showed no reaction to his undead nature, nor any surprise at his intelligence. She had already witnessed enough on the battlefield to accept it.

"Yes," she said after a brief pause.

"But not here," the elf continued. "This place is unsuitable. The damage to his soul is too deep and unstable. Proper treatment requires a controlled environment."

She shifted slightly, her robes rustling as her gaze swept across the ruined Fifteenth Floor.

"He would need to be brought to the elven realm."

Spartan said nothing.

Outwardly, he remained still, his expression unchanged.

Inwardly, something stirred.

Spartan did not possess emotions in the way living beings did, but his intelligence was refined enough to imitate their function. He could evaluate risk. He could weigh intent. He could experience something close to caution.

And right now, what he felt was wariness.

Another realm.

Another place where his master would be vulnerable.

Spartan did not think it was a good decision.

He had studied the universe enough to know that power was rarely offered without cost, and even more rarely without strings attached. Carrying his master into the heart of another race’s territory, no matter how renowned their healing arts were, felt dangerous.

The elf noticed his silence.

She waited a moment, then spoke again, her tone unchanged.

"Your master elder may accompany us."

She shifted her gaze slightly.

"By that, I mean him."

Her eyes settled on the old man from Michael’s realm.

At once, everyone understood who she meant.

Spartan’s head turned immediately.

His gaze locked onto the old man.

The old man stiffened, caught off guard by the sudden attention. For a brief moment, their eyes met. One pair was ancient and human. The other was undead with cold lifeless green light.

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