Evolving My Undead Legion In A Game-Like World

Chapter 776: Michael Vs Royal Princess [3]

Michael froze.

The voice was calm, steady, and unmistakably belonged to the old man beside him.

Do not bow.

Michael’s brow tightened slightly, but he did not argue. The old man had not bowed either. Given his rank, that much made sense.

More importantly, Michael trusted that the old man knew better than to put him in danger for no reason.

So he stayed still.

Below, the royal elf’s gaze swept across the field, composed and observant. It lingered briefly on the Sanctuary supervisor, then shifted toward the hovering figures near her.

Her eyes paused for the faintest moment.

There.

Michael felt it.

Even concealed, it was as if her gaze brushed past him without truly seeing him, yet still acknowledged that something was there.

A faint smile curved her lips.

Though the old man’s expression remained relaxed, almost indifferent, there was nothing casual about the thoughts moving beneath it.

At first, he had resisted the idea. But after days of observation, hesitation, and silent deliberation, he had finally come to accept a possibility he had once dismissed.

Michael could pass as the holy child of their realm.

If he grew far stronger than the other candidate, he could very well be recognized as the chosen one of the realm.

That acceptance was the reason his attitude toward Michael had softened. It was why he had begun speaking more, guiding more, intervening when before he would have simply watched.

Even so, he had not changed his mind about one thing.

Michael would not be left under the academies.

They had too much freedom. Too little restraint. Far too many agendas that shifted with political winds. Whatever interest they claimed to have in nurturing talent, it was never without strings.

The Federation, on the other hand.

That was where Michael would go.

He was relieved that Michael had awakened early, earlier than expected. It meant he could begin moving him immediately, before too many eyes settled on him.

The old man had already planned everything.

A major event had occurred in Hell, something large enough that the Federation would absolutely be aware of it. And if the Federation knew, then the academies would not be far behind.

Given what Michael had already shown, anyone with sense, especially his academy, would realize that letting him remain here unchecked was a mistake.

They would come.

He was certain of it.

The only reason they had not already appeared was because the situation itself had been unusual. The elves had been willing to open their gates to bring Michael here. That courtesy had not been extended to anyone else. No other party had been allowed physical passage.

Messages, however, were another matter.

Over the past few days, he had acted as a middleman, relaying information selectively, filtering what passed through and what did not.

He had believed that when the moment came, he would simply take Michael and leave.

Then the royal family’s interest appeared.

His gaze flicked briefly toward the silver haired figure who had just arrived.

He could only hope it was harmless curiosity from a single individual and not that the elves had decided to become petty after losing so badly.

Michael studied the silver haired elf openly.

Unfortunately, that same calm scrutiny stirred discomfort among some of the elves below.

A few frowned. Others stiffened slightly, offended by what they interpreted as improper boldness. To them, a concealed figure daring to look directly at a royal bordered on disrespect. Yet Michael saw nothing wrong with it. He was not staring challengingly, nor was he judging. He was simply looking.

The old man beside him did not react. Nor did several of the higher ranked elves who noticed. To them, this was acceptable. A holy child was not bound by the same unspoken rules.

Michael, unaware of the undercurrent and accustomed to noble circles in the Land of Origin, continued thinking.

The elven royal system was flexible. Unlike human kingdoms, where a single bloodline ruled until overthrown, elven authority was shared. The ruling party could consist of three families, or five, sometimes more. What mattered was not the number, but whether those families met the required foundation. Strength, legacy, influence, and stability. Those who possessed enough of these became pillars of the realm.

Which families held actual control shifted over time.

Whichever house held the greatest advantage in a given era, whether through power, alliances, or exceptional individuals, naturally took the lead.

Since this elf was addressed as a royal princess, Michael wondered where she stood within that structure.

Was she from the current ruling family?

Or one of the major houses?

The silver haired elf inclined her head slightly.

"I am Aeloria Lysandriel Faelthirion of the Moonweave Court, Daughter of the Verdant Family, and Bearer of the Silver Bough," she said calmly.

The name flowed on far longer than Michael expected.

It carried layered titles, ancestral acknowledgments, and symbolic roles woven together into a single introduction. Each segment seemed to carry weight, history, and obligation. Several of the elves below straightened subtly as she spoke, their expressions shifting with each added designation.

By the time she finished, silence had settled across the field.

Michael processed it quietly.

It was long. Uncomfortably long, if he was being honest. He doubted he could repeat even half of it correctly. Still, he found the culture behind it interesting.

Yet despite listening carefully, Michael gained no clear answer to his earlier question.

The name alone did not tell him whether she belonged to the current ruling family or one of the major houses.

Aeloria’s gaze lingered in his direction again, patient and curious, as if waiting.

Michael hesitated only briefly.

She had introduced herself. Anything less in response would be discourteous.

"I’m Michael Norman," he said simply.

The contrast was stark.

Just a name.

Seeing the reaction of the elves to that name, for the first time in his life, Michael felt a flicker of embarrassment.

He wondered if next time he should add some flowery words to it.

However, just as his thoughts began to drift elsewhere, he heard something that made him stiffen.

"I cannot help but wonder if Sir Michael might be interested in doing something with me."

*

A/N: I don’t even have any excuses.