Evolving My Undead Legion In A Game-Like World

Chapter 643: Special Class [Edited)

The fight for ranking within the academy wasn’t complicated.

A student could challenge anyone ranked above them. If they lost, they would keep their current position but wouldn’t be allowed to challenge that same person again for a month. If they won, however, they would claim the higher rank—while the defeated student would be unable to issue a challenge for the next two months.

This structure was intentional. It ensured that both victory and defeat carried weight. The winner couldn’t afford to grow complacent, knowing others would be aiming for their spot once their protection period ended, while the loser was given time to reflect, improve, and prepare for a proper comeback.

Without such a system, rankings would change daily, and the academy would descend into chaos. After all, ranks weren’t just about prestige.

As Michael made his way toward the Combat Hall, he quickly noticed he wasn’t the only one heading there.

At first, he thought it was just a few students which was normal—but as he continued walking, the crowd thickened. Students in academy robes filled the pathways, some chatting excitedly, others practically jogging in the same direction. The air buzzed with energy.

It might have been fine if it was limited to a small number, but this was far from that. Judging by the sea of faces, it seemed like almost every student from both the first and second years currently in session was on their way to the hall.

Michael frowned slightly. What’s going on? he thought. He had a faint feeling in his chest, but he wasn’t sure if he should take it seriously.

Beside him, Lira looked just as confused. Spotting a familiar face among the students, she stepped forward and called out, “Hey, Ren! What’s happening? Why is everyone headed to the Combat Hall?”

The young man she stopped turned at the sound of his name. When his eyes fell on Michael, he froze for half a second before forcing an awkward smile. “Ah… well, you see… word got out.”

“Word?” Lira repeated, her brows furrowing.

He scratched the back of his head, clearly unsure how to explain. “Apparently, someone leaked that the two mysterious Top 1 and Top 2 students of Year One were going to fight. You know how it is—official rank matches might not be announced, but they’re never exactly hidden either. Everyone just… decided to come watch.”

Lira blinked in disbelief. “Everyone?”

“Pretty much,” Ren admitted with a sheepish grin. “It’s not every day that something exciting happens in the academy. People just want to see what the hype’s about.”

He stopped himself before saying too much, realizing how strange it was to say that right in front of one of the participants. His awkward grin tightened, and he quickly bowed. “Anyway, I should—uh—go now. Good luck!”

Then, before either of them could respond, he slipped away into the crowd.

Lira sighed softly.

Michael watched Ren leave before glancing at Lira. “Is it always like this?” he asked, his tone calm but faintly curious.

Lira shook her head. “Not really,” she said after a moment. “Usually, only popular students get this kind of attention—and most of them are seniors. But given the situation this year…” she paused, glancing around at the buzzing crowd, “I’m not surprised people are interested in you and Rynne.”

Michael hummed softly. He understood what she meant.

Still, he couldn’t help but wonder how the news had spread so quickly. Was it intentional? he thought. Could it be Rynne’s doing?

He dismissed the idea almost as soon as it formed. Whether she leaked it or not didn’t matter.

To be honest, he didn’t care for the attention or the drama. All he wanted was his rank back—and with it, his villa dorm.

As they continued toward the Combat Hall, the crowd’s excitement only grew louder.

The Combat Hall was, in simple terms, the academy’s gym.

From the outside it looked like a single massive block of white stone. It was not the only building of its kind on campus, but it was one of the few with this scale and layout.

People often asked why Awakeners needed a gym at all. The answer was they came here to either keep their bodies in shape or to train skill. Raw stats could push a person’s strength to absurd levels, but stats alone did not refine control.

The hall’s core feature was a suppression formation that weakened supernatural cells to a calibrated baseline. Under that field, an Awakener’s physical output was reduced to levels that let them use specially made training tools without breaking them.

Also, because Awakeners increased power through stats, some developed excess body fat while still being monstrously strong.

This was either because they had the weight before they awakened or the things they took after awakening.

With the formation active, even heavy Awakeners could cut weight while rebuilding real conditioning.

Still, the gym’s main purpose was combat.

Inside the hall, Michael’s gaze swept the area until he spotted a cluster of faculty robes near the central arena. Standing beside them was a familiar figure with silver hair braided over one shoulder.

Rynne.

“That should be the teacher,” he said lightly.

Lira gave a small nod, understanding without words. “I’ll watch from the side,” she murmured, then peeled off into the crowd.

Michael moved straight toward Rynne. Even if she was not with the supervising teacher, staying near his opponent before the bout was reasonable.

Up close, the supervising teacher came into focus: a lean woman in a dark coat. Her eyes were sharp, and the feeling she gave Michael was strong.

“Instructor Kade,” Rynne said, noticing Michael’s approach.

Michael inclined his head. “Michael Norman.”

“Instructor Sera Kade,” the woman replied with a smile. Michael, who had always thought most of the academy’s teachers were naturally friendly, didn’t think much of the instructor’s tone.

Rynne, however, noticed.

Her eyes twitched almost imperceptibly. The teacher hadn’t been disrespectful, yet the faint difference in attitude was obvious to her. It wasn’t disdain—it was distance. A respectful wariness that came from knowing her lineage rather than her as a person.

However, Rynne had long grown used to this sort of treatment.

From the moment she could remember, people had either bowed too low or looked too high when addressing her. They smiled too politely, measured their words too carefully, and treated her with the weight of her surname rather than her own worth.

It was suffocating.

Rynne had never wanted to live in someone else’s shadow—yet that shadow followed her everywhere. Every praise she received was laced with expectation, every greeting burdened with reverence.

This was the reality she was born into.

No matter how hard she worked, no matter what talent she showed, until she achieved something truly unmatched, she would always be “the granddaughter of him.”

The granddaughter of an Emperor.

Her fingers tightened as she exhaled softly, forcing the bitterness back down. She had no intention of letting it show—not in front of Michael.

If she couldn’t change how others saw her, then she would crush their expectations the only way she knew how—through undeniable power.

Instructor Kade glanced between them, her calm expression unchanged. “Before we begin,” she said, her voice carrying easily through the hall, “state your names, your class, and your current level.”

She turned slightly toward Michael. “You first.”

Michael nodded once and stepped forward. “Michael Norman. Class—Necromancer. Level fifty.”

Even though most of the students already knew that much, a subtle shift passed through the hall.

Instructor Kade’s gaze moved to Rynne. “Next.”

Rynne took a measured breath and stepped forward as well. Her tone was composed, but her eyes were sharp, unwavering. “Rynne Halvane. Class—Amorer. Level forty-seven.”

Michael raised a brow. He wasn’t surprised by the level—forty-seven was impressive, but it was still within expectation for someone who had challenged him.

What caught his attention was the class.

Armorer?

Though he was no longer a complete novice, the name was new to him. Yet it didn’t sound ordinary.

As Michael wondered what kind of class Armorer could be, above the Combat Hall, a lone figure hovered in the air.

If Michael could see him, he would have recognized the man instantly.

After all, the colorful and eccentric director was hard to forget—especially with the kind of impression he’d left on him during their last encounter.

Right now, that same director was floating effortlessly in the air, his hands clasped behind his back as he peered down at the hall below. Though there were multiple layers of barriers between him and the interior, his eyes pierced through them like they weren’t even there.

A faint, amused smile curved his lips.

“Truly magnificent,” he murmured to himself. “It would be far too boring if no one witnessed this.”

His gaze flicked toward the arena where Michael and Rynne stood opposite each other.

“Now then,” he said softly, eyes glinting with interest, “let’s see how these two children fare against each other.”

The mystery was revealed.

The news of the match hadn’t been leaked by a student after all. It was the handiwork of the mischievous director himself.