Evolving My Undead Legion In A Game-Like World

Chapter 654: Interesting Villa

Just as Michael was about to continue studying, a loud crashing sound echoed through the villa. It was so sudden that the books on his desk trembled slightly and a faint vibration ran through the floor.

Normally, such a noise would have drawn an immediate reaction to Michael because it was his residence, and Spartan because of his duty to protect his master, but neither even looked up.

Michael calmly turned a page. Spartan did not blink, his finger following the line of text as though nothing had happened.

They both already knew what the cause was.

Somewhere in the villa, likely near the kitchen area, Lucky and Lily were up to something again, probably another one of their “culinary experiments.”

Michael exhaled softly through his nose, a mix of amusement and resignation flickering in his expression. The last time he had checked on them, the two had been trying to cook what Lucky called a dish.

Lucky’s strange obsession with “tasting” grass had started long ago. Back when Michael first revived him, the wolf-like undead had the odd habit of chewing on grass. But the moment Lucky realized ordinary grass had no flavor, he stopped.

Perhaps it would have ended there.

But Michael, recalling that old habit one day, decided to give the creature a treat. He had found some low-tier Soul Grass, plants that grew naturally in old cemeteries where magic beasts were buried, listed in the school catalog. The quality of Soul Grass varied depending on the strength of the creatures buried beneath it. The higher the grade, the greater its effect on undead.

Michael had only purchased the lowest grade, thinking it would be harmless. It was useless for cultivation but, he thought, it might let Lucky finally taste something again.

That was how the cycle began.

Lucky did not ask for more verbally, but through their spiritual connection, Michael could constantly feel a faint tug. It was a soft, persistent yearning, like a dull ache echoing from the bond they shared.

That sensation was impossible to ignore, as they were also very close to each other, and as his undead, their feelings were transparent to him.

From then on, every few days, he would toss a few sprigs of low-grade Soul Grass to the creature. But the simple treats evolved into something stranger. With Lily joining in, their experiments grew frequent and loud.

Michael sighed and finally looked up from his book, glancing in the direction of the noise. “They’re at it again,” he muttered.

Spartan did not even lift his eyes. “Shall I intervene, Master?”

“No,” Michael said, leaning back in his chair. “Let them play. As long as they don’t blow up the kitchen again.”

There was a brief pause, then another distant crash.

“They might blow up the kitchen again,” Spartan said flatly.

Michael rubbed his temple. “I know.”

Still, he did not move. Whatever mess they caused would be temporary. His undead, troublesome as they were, were part of what made the villa feel alive, if that was the right word for it.

However, though he did not move, his senses still spread through the whole villa as he checked up on everything.

In the kitchen, the source of the chaos revealed itself.

Inside a cauldron-like pot was a bubbling, faintly luminous liquid, an odd mixture of black and green that hissed like boiling tar. Floating within it were several strands of black grass.

A fine-looking young man, seemingly in his late twenties, stood over the cauldron wearing an apron that had clearly suffered better days. His long hair was tied loosely behind his head, and despite the faint scorch marks on his sleeve, this was Lucky, one of Michael’s oldest undead.

Beside him stood a tall, beautiful woman, Lily.

The pair looked like an eccentric couple in the middle of a domestic experiment.

Truth be told, the two made an oddly fitting pair. Lucky, ever since his early revival, had carried that strange fascination with taste and scent, perhaps some remnant instinct from his beast form. Meanwhile, Lily, whose appetite bordered on gluttony, had discovered a shared interest in what Lucky called “soul cuisine.”

One obsessed over flavor. The other over the sensation of devouring.

Together, they had found something close to friendship, or whatever the undead equivalent of that was.

The cauldron rattled as bubbles burst from its surface, releasing faint wisps of mist.

Lucky leaned closer. “Perfect. This is it, Lily. The aroma of true soul essence.”

Undead could not smell, but anything that had an effect on the soul could be felt.

Their experiments existed for one simple reason: to enhance the feeling.

Lucky, even as an undead, retained a faint echo of instinct from his days as a living creature. The undead version of him did not crave food or taste in the physical sense, yet somewhere in the depths of his soul, the impulse persisted. He simply wanted to feel again, to experience the sensation of consuming, even if it was illusionary.

Every time he ate, his soul flickered faintly, as though responding to the act itself. The stronger the sensation, the more vivid that flicker became. It was not hunger. It was the soul trying to remember what it was to live.

Lily, on the other hand, was a completely different story. Her law made her nature as an undead an apex devourer.

If not for the spiritual bindings of her master, she could have easily become one of those catastrophic undead, the kind that consumes entire cities simply to feel full. A being like her, left unchecked, could start a calamity without meaning to.

But Michael understood this better than anyone.

Unlike many summoners or necromancers who viewed their undead as tools, Michael treated his creations as intelligent beings. To him, if an undead could think, reason, and act, then it was alive in a sense.

That was why, instead of suppressing their instincts completely, he let them find safer alternatives.

Lucky’s desire to taste. Lily’s hunger for essence.

If these urges could be redirected into something harmless, like cooking, then it was better for everyone. And so, the bizarre culinary sessions began.

Michael did not entirely understand how they came up with half their recipes, but he had to admit, it was cheaper than the alternative of Lily accidentally eating another elf.

Now, the villa’s kitchen had become their experimental domain.

Soul grass, crushed mana stones, and even diluted spirit liquid lined the shelves.

And while the other villa residents would have found such a scene disturbing, to Michael, it was strangely comforting.

Like this, several days passed in a flash.

It was already the last month of the year and six months since Michael’s awakening.