EVOLVING MY UNDEAD LEGION IN A GAME-LIKE WORLD

Without another word, Michael turned away and made his way to the bar counter.

“A drink,” he said, placing a few coppers down.

The bartender, an older man with a thick beard, gave him a once-over before nodding.

Moments later, a wooden mug filled with dark liquid was placed in front of him.

Michael took a sip and let the burn settle in his throat.

It tasted bitter.

Yet.

It also tasted oddly good.

It was a conflicting taste for Michael.

He wasn’t a drinker, but tonight, he found himself in the mood for it.

He was curious about it.

It somehow also made sense to take one.

The day had been productive, but there was still much to do. More quests to take. More experience to gain. More power to accumulate.

As he sat there, thoughts raced through his mind.

Ace and Lia lingered for a moment longer, as if expecting Michael to call them back. But he didn’t.

He had already moved on, sipping his drink with a distant expression, clearly uninterested in whatever they were thinking.

Lia clenched his jaw, his fingers tightening into a fist

Ace, standing beside him, shifted uneasily.

They were used to being ignored, but this was different.

It wasn’t indifference in the way a noble ignored a servant—it was something else.

He genuinely didn’t care.

What they didn’t know was that while Michael couldn’t be bothered to be strict with them, he did appreciate their presence.

They had proven to be useful, and that was enough for him. He was satisfied with them—for now.

Of course, they could also try to run away.

At that point, they’d have to pray for mercy the next time he saw them.

Lia glanced at Ace, his lips pressing into a thin line. “We should go.”

Ace exhaled through his nose and gave a stiff nod. Without another word, they turned and left the inn.

Outside, the night air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of damp wood and distant cooking fires. The streets of the outer city weren’t exactly safe at night, but the two of them knew how to move unseen when necessary.

They walked in silence for a while before Ace finally broke it.

“You’re thinking about running.”

Lia flinched. “And you’re not?”

Ace sighed, rubbing his arms as if warding off the chill. “Where would we even go?”

That was the problem.

Running sounded like the smart choice, but where?

Back to their old lives?

And if they tried to leave the city, they’d be easy prey for the many dangers lurking in the wild.

Ace exhaled sharply. “He doesn’t even see us as a threat.”

Lia nodded.

They had both expected some level of control—commands, threats, maybe even a magical binding of some sort.

But Michael had done none of that.

Instead, he gave them freedom.

It was unnerving.

“You think he knows we won’t run?” Ace asked.

Lia hesitated before shaking his head. “I don’t think he cares either way.”

And that was what made Michael truly terrifying.

A man who didn’t care whether you stayed or left was a man confident enough that it didn’t matter.

For now, they had a silver coin and the night ahead of them.

“Come on,” Lia muttered. “Let’s find a place to stay before it gets any later.”

Ace lnodded, and together, they disappeared into the city.

Michael finished his drink in silence, setting the empty mug down with a quiet thud.

The bar was still lively, filled with drunken laughter and murmured conversations, but he had no interest in lingering. He stood, adjusting his robe, and strode toward the exit.

The cool night air greeted him as he stepped outside. His undead were waiting, standing motionless in the dim light of the street lamps.

Their presence had gone mostly unnoticed by the inn’s patrons, but the occasional passerby cast wary glances their way before hurrying along.

Michael barely paid attention to the reactions.

He glanced toward the Hunter Guild’s direction. He wasn’t sure if it was still open, but there was only one way to find out.

Without a word, he started walking.

His undead followed, their movements eerily synchronized. The streets weren’t as crowded as before, but they weren’t empty either.

A few vendors still had their stalls open, catering to late-night wanderers. The smell of roasted meat and ale mixed with the scent of damp stone.

Michael walked at a steady pace, his undead trailing behind him like silent shadows.

He turned a corner and entered a narrow alley, the buildings on either side leaning inward, casting deep shadows over the cobbled path.

His undead followed without hesitation.

A rat scurried across the ground, disappearing into a hole between the bricks. Michael barely noticed. His focus was on something else.

“Return to the Nether.”

The moment he gave the silent command, his undead shuddered.

Their forms flickered, as if reality itself struggled to hold them. One by one, they dissolved into wisps of darkness, vanishing into the void.

A breath of cold air brushed against Michael’s skin as the last one disappeared.

The alley felt emptier now, quieter.

With them gone, he adjusted his robe and stepped out of the alley, merging back into the main street.

The Hunter Guild wasn’t far now.

The Hunter Guild’s building was one of the few structures in the outer city that stood out even at night.

Unlike most establishments that dimmed their lanterns after sunset, the guild remained brightly lit, its doors wide open to accommodate the steady flow of hunters coming and going.

As Michael approached, he could hear the muffled chatter from within—boasting, bargaining, and the occasional argument. It was a lively place, filled with the scent of sweat, ale, and iron.

The moment he stepped inside, a few heads turned in his direction. Some were simply curious, others more cautious.

Michael recognised a few faces.

Most belonging to hunters he had seen the previous day. They were the ones that looked at him with thebmost caution in their eyes.

But once they saw he wasn’t here to cause trouble, they lost interest and returned to their drinks or discussions.

Michael made his way toward the counter, where a bored-looking receptionist sat behind a wooden desk, flipping through a stack of papers.

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