Evolving My Undead Legion In A Game-Like World - Chapter 623

Chapter 623: First Subject Visit [1] (Refresh to correct error!)

“Welcome, my precious students!” the man announced, voice ringing through the Grand Hall with a flamboyant warmth that immediately cut through the tension in the air.

Some students flinched. A few seniors groaned softly under their breath.

Director Arven spread his arms dramatically, coat flaring like a stage performer. “Ah, look at you all! So young and so energetic!”

Arven placed a hand on his chest in mock sincerity. “Now, I know what you’re thinking. ‘Oh no, the director looks too good to be an educator.’ And yes, you’re right. But I assure you, I do work here.”

“Okay that’s enough introduction,” the director said before he continued speaking.

“For those new to our dear institution, allow me to clarify something important. This is not a school for the privileged so learn to behave and follow the rules or pay the consequences of your actions.”

Suddenly, to the new students’ surprise, including Michael, the director’s voice became particularly intimidating.

The contrast was startling. For someone who looked flamboyant enough to host a fashion show rather than run a top-tier academy, his words suddenly filled the hall with the kind of gravitas that made one straighten instinctively.

Somehow, the vibrant personality he’d displayed moments ago didn’t clash with it.

The charisma, the eccentricity, and the quiet power all meshed into one unnervingly compelling presence.

Director Arven’s lips curved again. “Now, let’s get to the important part before I lose your attention to my overwhelming charm.”

“….”

“A new year has begun, a new semester is upon us, and as always, there’s gossip, achievement, and chaos to celebrate. Some of you might know these already.”

He clasped his hands behind his back.

“One achievement is that our beloved academy has acquired one more Rank 4 dimensional crack and it’s a realm type dimension. Not a corrupted type dimension filled with hollow monsters.”

A few gasps and low murmurs spread through the crowd. Even among seasoned students, a Rank 4 realm type dimensional was no small feat. In fact, wasn’t this the first time an academy had access to this sort of thing?

Director Arven raised a finger. “Another announcement is that among our five graduating tenth-years, one has managed to break through to Rank 4.”

Applause rippled across the seniors.

Arven nodded approvingly.

“A few other things happened too—some… let’s just say interesting developments in our little world. But as I’m a very busy man who values his slee—work, I’ll let you dig those out yourselves.”

Director Arven clapped his hands together.

“Now that we’ve brushed through the old matters,let’s move on to what truly matters today.”

“Today we officially welcome the new students of Veraunt’s Edge Academy! And I must say”—Arven paused, tilting his head as his eyes swept across the rows of first-years—”you lot are quite the collection. A little unpolished, but…” His smile sharpened. “outside the crowd, the strong ones among you are stronger than last year’s batch. And definitely stronger than the year before that.”

That earned a few surprised murmurs. Some of the older students frowned, while others crossed their arms, clearly taking the comment as a jab. But none dared to interrupt.

Arven, of course, noticed the subtle reactions but didn’t care.

After all, did the students dare to talk.

“Among our talented newcomers this year, two stand out the brightest.”

“The first is an exceptional talent—strong and already recognized by one of the highest authorities in our academy. In fact, she’s even an in-name disciple of the vice principal herself.”

A ripple of whispers filled the air instantly.

Michael didn’t need to be told who he was referring to. He turned his head slightly toward Ryn’s sister.

Her expression didn’t shift much, still as cool and poised as before, but this time, a small flicker of pride appeared at the corner of her lips

It was faint, but noticeable.

She must have felt his gaze because her eyes drifted toward him almost immediately, locking onto his without hesitation. The two regarded each other for a brief moment, the noise of the hall fading into background static.

Her pale eyes were calm but probing, as if silently saying, You’re the other one, aren’t you?

Unfortunately for her, Michael wasn’t the type to play the staring game. He broke the gaze first, exhaling quietly through his nose and turning his attention back to the stage.

If she wanted a staring contest, she’d have to find another opponent.

Arven, completely oblivious—or perhaps deliberately ignoring the silent exchange—continued smoothly, “And as for the other student…”

The director’s lips curved in amusement. “Well, I think we all already know who that is.”

Michael felt several eyes flick toward him, and like a fuse, when the others that didn’t know him found out who the director was referring to turned to him.

This made him feel uncomfortable.

Arven, however, was grinning wider than ever. “Let’s give both of them a warm round of applause, shall we?”

The sound that followed wasn’t unified—halfhearted claps, scattered applause, awkward pauses.

Michael didn’t react, his face unreadable.

Just what he hadn’t expected yet was what happened next.

Director Arven lifted a finger, eyes gleaming with mischief. “Since you’re all being so unmotivated, I’ll let you in on a little secret. Our other bright star is Michael Norman. Yes, that Michael. Top one of the first year. The one who made this year’s entrance exam special.”

A wave rolled through the hall—recognition snapping into place for those who’d only heard rumors.

Arven didn’t give them time to digest it. “Also, he’s a level 50 awakener.”

Silence hit first then fractured into gasps and sharp intakes of breath.

“Level fifty?” someone whispered.

“Already?”

“That’s third to fifth-year territory…”

The shift was almost visible. Curiosity hardened into wary respect; jealousy calcified around the edges. Some felt they were starting to understand why someone was above even the vice principal disciple.

If the rumors were true, it was a deserved rank.

Arven, happy by the change, added lightly, “But that’s not even the most interesting part.”

The noise dimmed as quickly as it had risen.

“The most exciting thing about Michael,” the director said, savoring the pause, “is the year he awakened.”

A murmur rippled—speculation flared.

“Seventeen last year?”

“If it was last year and he sprinted to fifty—”

Arven cut the guesses in half. “Four months.”

The words landed like a dropped weight.

“Four… months?”

“You’re joking—”

“No way.”

Even the seniors went still. The hall seemed to hold its breath. In the stunned quiet, Michael felt several gazes on him.

For no particular reason, his attention slid sideways—to Ryn’s sister.

The frost-still composure she wore like armor had cracked; shock flashed bright and unhidden across her features.

*

In the Land of Origin, Michael’s expression remained unreadable as he shook his head faintly. Whatever was happening in Aurora, right now, none of that mattered.

He had other matters to attend to.

The crisp scent of cold wind brushed across his face as he stepped down from the carriage. The guards who had traveled with him stood behind, tense and silent, their gazes locked on a single kneeling figure before them.

Captain Rohan.

The man’s armor clinked faintly as his fists tightened against the dirt road, his body trembling from fury.

Michael’s calm voice broke the silence.

“So, let me get this straight,” he said calmly. “You’re telling me a guard was sent ahead to inform Knight Darius of our arrival… minutes before we reached his lands, and yet no one came to receive us?”

Rohan’s head bowed lower, his jaw visibly clenched. “Yes, my Lord.”

“And still,” Michael said softly, “not a single soul appeared.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

Rohan’s voice shook now, heavy with restrained rage. “If you would just give the order, I’ll have his head mounted before dusk. Allow me to set an example—”

“An example?” Michael cut in gently, almost amused. “Of what? That we kill everyone who forgets their manners?”

Rohan flinched but didn’t rise.

Michael’s lips curved faintly. “No. There’s no need for blood..” His gaze shifted toward the horizon, where the distant silhouette of Darius’s small stronghold sat. “Let’s take a look around first.”

Rohan looked up, confusion flickering briefly.

“My Lord?”

Michael said nothing.

Rohan’s teeth ground audibly, but he bowed low again. “As you command, my Lord.”

Michael turned slightly, his cloak brushing the ground. “Good. Let’s move.”

“As you wish,” Rohan said hoarsely, motioning the guards to move.

Inside the small stone castle, a man in his late fifties stood behind a narrow window slit. His pale eyes caught the distant gleam of carriages, banners, and armored riders moving in a disciplined line. The moment his gaze brushed across the black-cloaked figure at the front something instinctual inside him recoiled.

He stepped back sharply, his breathing uneven for an instant.

A strange chill ran up his spine, as though the young man below had sensed his watchful eyes.

*

A/N: I apologize for the mishaps in the last two chapters. This one is on me and I’m not proud of it. I’m so sorry.