Evolving My Undead Legion In A Game-Like World

Chapter 771: Entering the Void

For a heartbeat, neither of the two Rank Fours reacted.

Then both of them looked at Michael.

Really looked at him.

The old woman’s brows lifted first, surprise breaking through her composure. Caelum turned his head slowly, as if he was not sure he had heard correctly.

"...Wash plates?" Caelum repeated.

Michael lowered his hand from his face and looked at them seriously.

"I mean it," he said.

Michael was telling the truth.

He had not even heard the rest of what Lily consumed, but it was obvious that there was no way he could pay it back.

All she had taken was something that could hurt a Rank Four deeply.

What could a Rank Two like him possibly achieve?

For a moment, the forest was quiet.

Then the old woman let out a short, incredulous laugh.

It was brief. Sharp. Gone almost as soon as it appeared.

Caelum shook his head, a strange expression crossing his face: amusement, disbelief, and something else layered beneath it.

"Young man," he said, "do you have any idea what kind of plates you would be washing?"

Michael frowned slightly.

What did the old woman mean by this?

The old woman laughed again, this time longer.

She gestured around them, at the forest, at the sleeping Titan, at the roots glowing faintly beneath the soil.

"My garden is not a kitchen," she continued. "The things she consumed are not meals that can be paid back with labor."

Caelum folded his arms.

"Even if you washed plates every day," he said calmly, "even if you did nothing else for a thousand years, it would not make a noticeable difference."

Michael stiffened.

"A thousand years?" he repeated.

"Yes," the old woman said flatly. "At least."

She looked at him, then sighed, some of the heat draining from her voice.

"And that is assuming you lived that long."

Michael fell silent.

He looked at Lily again, at the way the forest cradled her massive form.

Michael stared at Lily for a long moment, then turned back to the old woman.

"So," he said quietly, "what can I do?"

The words were simple. Direct. There was no bargaining tone in them, no attempt to dodge responsibility.

The old woman looked at him.

Really looked at him this time.

She did not answer immediately.

Instead, she let out a slow breath and turned her gaze away, eyes drifting toward the canopy above. For a brief moment, her thoughts moved far from the forest.

If he did not die early...

The thought surfaced unbidden.

If this human survived long enough, if fate did not crush him midway, then the future that awaited him was terrifying. Even to her.

A Rank Two whose foundation already defied logic. A soul that the world itself refused to let her see through. Undead that could devour higher existences, laws that did not belong to a single path, and so on.

She could not even imagine how high he would climb.

And that uncertainty unsettled her more than she liked to admit.

It was not envy.

Elves carried pride in their blood, but it was a racial pride, not the fragile sort that needed comparison. Strong individuals did not threaten her sense of self. But Michael was not merely strong. He was an unknown variable, one that did not fit into the long histories and predictions she trusted.

A being like that could either become a pillar of an era or a calamity that reshaped it.

She could use this opportunity to make him owe her a favor.

But she would not say that out loud.

So she turned back to him, her expression once again composed, the weight of those thoughts locked away behind calm eyes.

"This is not something we will settle here," she said evenly.

Michael frowned slightly. "Later?"

"Yes," she replied. "Later."

Caelum glanced at her, catching the shift in her tone, but he did not interrupt.

The old woman turned back toward the sleeping Titans and studied them one last time.

"We will leave them here," she said calmly. "Until they wake up on their own."

Michael frowned. "Just like that?"

"Yes," she replied. "Interfering now would do more harm than good. One is ascending. The other is... digesting far more than she should have. Time is the safest answer for both."

Michael understood that much.

The old elf glanced at him, a faint curve touching her lips. "We should go and check the area."

Michael hesitated.

By now, he was certain there was a reason she kept saying this. The smile earlier.

But he did not refuse.

"Alright," he said simply.

Caelum gave him a brief look but said nothing.

The old woman stepped closer again and placed a hand lightly on Michael’s shoulder, just as she had before.

"Do not resist," she said.

The world folded.

The forest vanished in a soft distortion of space, and when Michael’s feet touched solid ground again, the air felt different.

They stood at the edge of the forest, where towering trees thinned and gave way to wide terraces of greenery.

Michael’s breath caught as he gazed at the buildings in front of him.

This was the first time he had seen the realm he had arrived in.

The old woman let Michael stare for a moment, then spoke in a calm, almost formal tone.

"Welcome to the Royal Academy," she said. "The academy for gifted elves."

Michael looked at her. "An academy?"

"Yes," she replied. "A place where talent is shaped into something useful. Leaders, guardians, healers, scholars, and those who will carry our realm’s name without shame."

Caelum snorted quietly at the side, but he did not disagree.

The old woman continued, her voice steady.

"It exists for three purposes," she said. "To train the best. To keep the best under watch. And to make sure the best do not grow wild."

Michael’s eyes narrowed slightly at that last part, but he said nothing.

He turned back to the view.

It was strange.

The whole place looked modern, even to him, but not in the way Aurora was modern.

There were no steel towers or hard lines. No harsh corners. No streets of concrete.

Instead, everything was organized with a kind of clean logic.

Wide paths curved through the terraces like planned roads. Bridges connected platforms at perfect angles, but they were made of pale wood and braided vines, smooth underfoot like polished stone. Tall structures rose from living trunks, layered like buildings, with open balconies and shaded walkways.

The place felt designed, not random.

Even the air felt managed.

It was nature, but controlled.

Nature shaped into a city.

Michael watched elves move through the academy grounds. Some carried stacks of tablets and books. Some walked in groups, talking quietly.

It reminded him of a military base.

Only this one had trees instead of walls.

Michael breathed in slowly.

"It’s... beautiful," he admitted.

"Of course it is," the old woman replied, as if the answer was obvious. "If we are going to shape people, we will not do it in ugliness."

Michael’s gaze stayed forward, but his mind kept turning.

Michael let the view settle into his bones for a few breaths.

Then he tilted his head up.

The sky above the academy was not a clean, single color. It was layered, painted with slow-moving hues that twisted and overlapped like oil on water. Green bled into blue. Gold bled into violet. Farther up, thin streaks of red and white flashed, then faded.

Even from here, it felt like pressure.

Like something was scraping the surface of the world.

Michael narrowed his eyes.

He could not see the fighters, but he could see the result of the fight.

He turned toward Caelum.

"Is that my undead?" he asked. "The ones fighting right now."

Caelum followed his gaze to the sky and smiled faintly, as if he found the question amusing.

"Yes," he said.

Michael stared at the shifting colors again, jaw tight.

"They’re fighting in the surface level of the void," he said quietly. "Close enough that it can still touch reality."

Caelum glanced at him, then nodded once.

"You’re not blind," he said.

Michael did not respond to the praise. His eyes stayed upward.

A small part of him wanted to move.

Not because he thought Spartan needed him, but because the idea of his undead clashing in another realm’s territory made his skin crawl.

Caelum’s smile grew a little.

"Do you want to go there?" he asked.

Michael looked back at him. "Can I?"

"With my prowess, I can see what is happening even without being there," Caelum said, tone casual. "You cannot."

Michael’s expression did not change, but he understood.

He had only just started to comprehend a law. He had only just stepped onto the first real edge of that path.

Some things were still foreign to him.

Caelum continued, as if answering the rest of the question before Michael asked it.

"But breathing in the void is possible for you," he said. "You have that much foundation. You will not die just because you stepped out there."

Michael held his gaze for a moment, then looked back at the sky.

*

A/N; Normal update resumes tomorrow. My writer friends just left today since arriving yesterday. So sorry dear readers.