Evolving My Undead Legion In A Game-Like World

Chapter 770: Troublesome Titans

All in all, Michael was currently safe from being crippled, but his previous solid foundation, though still ridiculously strong, had suffered a significant reduction compared to before.

Though Michael felt saddened by the many losses he had suffered with seemingly no benefit to show for them, he was simply happy that it was over and had not ended in the worst way possible.

Well, it was also not as if he had gained nothing. If not for this event, only heaven knew when he would finally have awakened a law seed—and whether it would even have been as unique as this one.

At least among the many concepts he had previously possessed that could have become his law for ascension, the one he eventually comprehended was the perfect fit for him.

Now having more undead didn’t just benefit him in terms of numbers, but personally as well.

After all, if others had one law, he could have as many as he could handle.

Though his laws would not be as perfect as the originals, there were still many things he could achieve that others could not.

Michael remained silent for a moment after the old woman finished speaking. Then he took a step back and bowed properly this time, deeper and more deliberate than before.

"Thank you," he said sincerely. "For saving my life."

The old woman waved a hand lightly, as if brushing aside something trivial.

"It was nothing," she replied. "You were difficult, but not impossible. I have treated worse."

Caelum shot her a look, but she ignored him.

She studied Michael again, then her expression softened just a little.

"Since you are awake now," she said, "why don’t you take a look around?"

As she spoke, a faint smile appeared on her face.

Caelum noticed it immediately. His brows furrowed, and he turned his head slightly toward her.

"That smile," he said. "What are you planning?"

The old woman did not answer him.

Michael, however, thought nothing of it.

"I would like that," he said honestly. "But first, I want to check on my undead."

The old woman raised an eyebrow but did not object.

"That is reasonable," she said.

Michael closed his eyes briefly.

He reached out through his connection, calling for them.

Most answered at once.

Now that he knew what was going on with Spartan and Ghost, he was not worried.

They could handle themselves.

But there were two presences that did not respond.

Michael’s brow tightened.

He reached out again, focusing.

Nothing.

The silence remained.

Among all his undead, there were only two that concerned him now.

His two Titan undead.

They did not answer his call.

They also gave off the feeling that they were sleeping.

That was not normal.

Michael opened his eyes slowly.

His expression remained calm, but something cold settled behind it.

He could not help but wonder if the elves had done something to his undead.

Michael exhaled slowly.

"I want to check on my undead," he said.

The old woman inclined her head slightly. "Then let’s go together."

Caelum turned toward her at once but said nothing.

Michael did not mind the company. He had no reason to refuse.

He took a step forward, intending to start walking, but the old woman spoke again.

"There is no need for that," she said. "Just show me where."

Michael paused, then raised his arm and pointed in a direction.

"That way," he said.

The old woman stepped closer and placed a hand lightly on his shoulder.

The world shifted.

The ground beneath Michael’s feet vanished for an instant, then returned just as suddenly.

They were no longer near the inner sanctuary.

They stood in a wide stretch of forest, deeper and denser than before. Massive trees rose around them, their trunks thick and ancient, roots weaving through the ground like living veins. The mana here was heavier, calmer, as if the land itself was breathing slowly.

Caelum appeared beside them a heartbeat later, his expression sharp but controlled.

Michael barely spared the surroundings a glance.

His focus was already elsewhere.

The feeling was stronger here.

"They’re close," he said quietly.

Ahead, between the trees, two enormous shapes loomed.

His Titans.

Sleeping.

Michael’s eyes narrowed.

Caelum took one look at the two towering figures and let out a low sound.

"Oh," he murmured. "This undead."

Michael raised an eyebrow at once.

The old man’s tone was too certain, too familiar, like he already knew what he was looking at.

"You know what’s happening," Michael said.

Caelum did not deny it. He stepped forward a few paces, eyes tracing the Titans from the roots wrapped around their feet.

"Yes. A few things happened while you were asleep," he said calmly. "Not often, but enough."

Michael’s gaze sharpened.

"Please tell me," he said. "Why are they like this?"

Caelum pointed at the first Titan, the male one.

"This one is ascending," he said. "He is stepping into the next realm. The process has already started, so he probably cannot respond to your call. He’s in the stage where it’s just him and the universe. This is the most vulnerable state he could ever be in."

Michael’s surprise hit instantly, then settled into something stranger.

Beginning.

Ascending.

His mind flashed back to the battle, to the moment Beginning had devoured an existence above his current level, swallowing a Rank Four presence whole.

Now, looking at the Titan’s unmoving frame, it made sense.

It was still shocking.

But it was also expected, to some extent.

Michael’s eyes shifted to the second Titan.

Lily.

"And her?" Michael asked quietly.

Caelum hesitated for a fraction of a second.

The old woman stepped closer, her eyes narrowing slightly as she studied the roots around Lily’s legs, the way the forest seemed to cling to her like it was trying to restrain her.

Caelum finally spoke.

"She ate too much," he said.

Michael stared.

Caelum’s expression did not change, but his eyes did.

The old woman’s face remained calm, yet the air around her felt colder.

Michael’s expression turned strange.

Beginning ascending was one thing. It was huge, but it followed a clear cause. He had devoured a being at that rank. Growth was the natural result.

Lily was different.

Lily could devour. It was her nature. It was her method of growth.

But anything that could knock her out, anything that could push her into a state where even the bond felt thick and muffled, could not be ordinary.

Michael looked from Lily to the two Rank Four figures beside him.

He caught it then.

A small shift in Caelum’s jaw.

The faint tightening around the old woman’s eyes.

They were not treating this as a simple case of overeating.

Michael’s worry deepened.

"What did she eat?" he asked, voice low.

Neither of them answered immediately.

And that silence told Michael everything he needed to know.

The old woman inhaled slowly.

Then she exhaled.

And when she spoke, the calm she had worn until now cracked.

"My garden," she said flatly.

Michael blinked.

"...Your garden?"

"Yes," she replied, turning toward him. "Mine."

Her voice was still measured, but there was an edge to it now, like something sharp being pressed under restraint.

"She slipped past, then she helped herself."

Caelum looked away.

Michael swallowed.

"She ate what, exactly?" Michael asked.

The old woman raised one finger.

"First," she said, "she consumed Heartwood Nectar."

Her finger lowered; another rose.

"A distillate formed once every fifty years from elder trees that have survived spatial pressure. It reinforces the physical vessel, stabilizes flesh during ascension, and prevents collapse when the soul outpaces the body."

Her tone grew sharper.

"Most elves are permitted a single drop in their lifetime."

A second finger.

"Then she found Spiritbind Moss."

Her eyes narrowed.

"A plant that strengthens soul-to-body cohesion. It is used to prevent soul drift during high-risk breakthroughs. Improper intake can cause saturation, forced dormancy, or spiritual swelling."

A third finger.

"And then," she said, her voice rising, "she ate Dreamroot."

Caelum winced.

Michael’s heart skipped.

"Dreamroot?" Michael repeated.

"Yes," the old woman snapped. "A root that accumulates subconscious intent over centuries. It enhances comprehension, accelerates internal digestion of energy, and forces the mind into a deep sleep state where comprehension is advanced."

Her voice was no longer calm.

It was loud now.

"IT IS NOT FOOD."

The forest around them seemed to still.

Michael slowly looked at Lily’s massive, unmoving form.

"That... explains the sleep," he said quietly.

The old elf took a breath, visibly restraining herself.

"And that is not all," she added, more coldly now. "She also absorbed residual essence from the soil—essence that had been cultivated to nourish the garden itself."

Michael’s mouth opened, then closed.

"...How much did she eat?" he asked.

The old woman stared at him.

Then she said, very calmly, very clearly,

"Enough to have created a fight between me and your elder."

Silence followed.

Michael rubbed his face slowly.

Beginning ascending made sense. It followed logic. Cause and effect. Devour a higher-ranked existence, trigger evolution.

Lily was different.

This was not evolution.

This was excess.

And excess, in Lily’s case, was dangerous.

He looked back at the old woman.

"Does your garden accept me washing plates?"