Evolving My Undead Legion In A Game-Like World-Chapter 325

As the last of the crowds began to filter out of the arena, the two boys finally stood from their seats.

Neither said much at first, walking side by side.

Then Renn broke the silence.

"So," he asked casually, "do you live in the capital too?"

Michael glanced sideways at him.

The question wasn't particularly odd, but he was still quite suspicious about Renn. Still, there was no harm in being honest.

"…Yeah," Michael said. "I do."

He wasn't prepared for the reaction.

Renn stopped walking. Slowly, he turned toward him with a look that could only be described as reverence. "You're… serious?"

Michael blinked. "…Yeah?"

"You live. In the capital. Like your own space?" Renn repeated it like a sacred chant, eyes wide, posture stiff. His hand even touched the wooden sword at his waist, as if grounding himself.

"…Why do you look like that?" Michael asked, genuinely confused.

Renn didn't answer at first. He just stared at him like he was a walking miracle. "You're practically a god of wealth."

Michael frowned. "I think you're exaggerating."

"No," Renn said, stepping closer now, voice low and almost mournful. "You don't get it. Do you know how much it costs just to have space in the capital? And not the grant help given to commoners. The poorest merchant in the capital is wealthier than my whole household."

"…Your household?"

Renn scratched the back of his head sheepishly. "I'm from a minor baron family. Far off from the outskirts of the Lionheart Kingdom. Most of our wealth is tied up in land and tradition. Old names, empty coffers. We live like nobles because it's expected of us—but we barely scrape by."

Michael stared at him for a beat, and slowly, the pieces started to click.

Ah.

That explained a lot.

Renn didn't look poor, not really. But he didn't carry the ease or polish of a pampered heir either. His clothes were well-kept but plain. His sword—wooden, and worn from use—was clearly not a showpiece but a tool.

And that reverent tone now made sense.

To a struggling noble, a youth who could afford to live in the capital… even if it was just a small room in the outer ring… would seem unimaginably rich.

Michael exhaled.

"…It's not that impressive."

"To you maybe," Renn muttered. "To me? That's halfway to being a duke."

Michael didn't know whether to laugh or correct him.

So he said nothing.

And they walked on.

They walked in companionable silence for a while, the hum of the dispersing crowd fading behind them.

After a few moments, Renn spoke again.

"So… do you use a weapon?"

Michael glanced at him. "Yeah. Spear."

Renn nodded thoughtfully. "But you didn't bring it with you today?"

"I didn't think I'd need it," Michael replied without missing a beat.

It was the truth.

Just not the whole truth.

What Renn didn't know was that Michael always had his spear. Just not strapped to his back or hanging from a holster. It existed in a separate space.

He could summon it in an instant.

But for the trial, he hadn't needed to.

Renn gave a small laugh. "A spear though, huh? Not many our age use them. Most go for swords or daggers. Flashier. Easier to control with less training. A spear takes patience. Range. Rhythm."

Michael didn't respond immediately and turned to look at Renn with interest.

Renn's movement on the arena stage showed that his swordsmanship was at least at Intermediate Mastery.

But after hearing him speak more.

Was it possible it wasn't only the sword he was skilled in?

Michael's gaze lingered on Renn a moment longer, then he asked curiously, "Do you know how to use any other weapon besides the sword?"

Renn blinked. "Me?"

Michael gave a slow nod. "You sounded like someone who's trained with a spear before."

Renn scratched the side of his neck, looking a little sheepish. "Nah. I've only ever trained with a sword." He patted the hilt of the worn blade strapped to his waist. "This thing's been with me since I was five."

Michael arched a brow. "Then how do you know quite a bit about spears?"

Renn hesitated for a beat, then smiled faintly. "I have a brother. He's older by a few years. A spear user."

Michael's expression didn't change, but he understood immediately.

"So you picked things up from watching him?" Michael asked.

Renn nodded. "Pretty much."

Michael didn't say anything for a moment and kept quiet.

Meanwhile, Renn was observing Michael with an odd expression on his face.

For one, this was the longest conversation they'd had since meeting each other. And two… Renn was starting to seriously wonder—

Who exactly was this guy?

Michael hadn't reacted much when he revealed he was from a noble family. Just a small flicker of surprise—no change in tone, no awkward silence, no nervous flattery.

That was rare.

In a world where status often determined whether someone bowed or stood tall, that kind of reaction—or lack thereof—was telling.

Renn recalled something his father once told him. It had been during a heated argument about trade rights with a local merchant guild, back when Renn was still too young to understand why they were practically bowing to commoners.

His father had sat him down later and said, "Even though we're nobles, there are some merchants we have to treat with more respect than marquises. Some of them could buy three of our estates before breakfast. You'll understand when you're older."

Now, walking beside Michael, Renn did understand.

Or… he thought he did.

Is he a merchant's son?

That was Renn's first guess.

Michael didn't have any attendants, no guards, no family crest sewn into his clothes. He wasn't flaunting status, and yet he carried himself like someone with nothing to prove. That kind of quiet presence didn't come from coin alone.

But then again…

Could a merchant cultivate a beast like this?

That was what Michael had seemed like during the trial—a beast in human skin.

Renn frowned slightly.

He hadn't even considered it before… but maybe Michael was a noble. Just not the flashy kind. Maybe he came from one of those old houses who didn't bother with crests or titles. The ones who stayed out of the courts and focused on building legacy through strength.

Or maybe…

Maybe he was something else entirely.

*******

*******

Still, as all these thoughts bounced around Renn's head, one thing never occurred to him.

The same thought others in the arena might've had after watching him move.

Because while he thought Michael was a beast—

He never once realized…

So was he.

Michael and Renn walked shoulder to shoulder down the main road of the outer market.

They passed through clusters of buildings that wore age like a badge. Stone facades chipped with time, roofs patched with cloth.

"This is where we split, yeah?" Renn finally said, slowing to a stop at the corner where the market forked into several alleyways.

Michael paused and looked at him.

"My inn's down that way," Renn said, pointing left. "It's not much, but they've got warm bread and don't steal your boots while you sleep. Usually."

Michael gave a small nod. "Not bad."

"What about you?" Renn asked, tilting his head slightly. "Which direction's yours?"

Michael glanced toward the rightmost path—one that led toward a quieter, better-paved road where faint glimmers of mana lamps shone a little brighter.

"Other side of the district."

Renn whistled softly. "Figures."

Michael said nothing.

"Well," Renn said at last, reaching out his hand. "Guess I'll see you tomorrow, huh?"

Michael eyed the offered hand for half a second before taking it.

"Yeah," he said. "Tomorrow."

Renn gave a firm shake, then flashed a lopsided grin and turned, disappearing down the alleyway with a relaxed gait and his wooden sword bouncing at his hip.

Michael watched him go for a moment.

Then he turned and walked the other way.

His pace was calm, but steady.

Eventually, Michael reached his home.

However, just as Michael was about to reach out to the doorknob, he paused.

A moment later, the door opened.

On the other side was Lia and Ace.

Michael had sensed them earlier. This was why he had paused his actions.

Lia and Ace had a lot of surprise when they saw Michael at the door.

However, though they were taken aback, they immediately gave a short bow.

Their movement so natural it was evidently different from how it was weeks ago.

Even from Lia!

There was no conflict on his face and his movements looked just as natural as any noble attendant.

If anything, it had more sincerity than them!

Why was this the case?

What had happened in these past few weeks to cause so much change?

The reason for all this was naturally due to Michael.

From feeding, to respect, to later having access to resources to get stronger.

Michael gave it all.