Evolving My Undead Legion In A Game-Like World-Chapter 852: Awakening

Deep within the ruin, far beyond the crystal-veined plains and the wandering silhouettes of the infected, the strange building stood in silence.

It had no windows.

No doors that could be seen from the outside.

Yet its interior existed.

The air inside was thick, and within that chamber, laughter echoed.

It spread through the room, and at the center of the chamber lay a figure.

The body was still.

The eyes were open. Unfocused. Around the fallen figure stood several others.

They formed a circle, evenly spaced, their posture upright, their heads tilted slightly downward as if observing something sacred.

None of them spoke.

Their faces were calm. Empty.

Beneath their skin, faint distortions shifted.

"After hundreds of years, my dream of leaving this damn place is finally close."

The voice did not come from a mouth. It came from the air itself.

The figure on the ground twitched faintly, fingers curling and uncurling without direction.

The voice lingered, tasting the moment.

"This body..."

A pause.

"Is not the best."

The prone figure’s chest rose slowly, unnaturally steady.

"But it is good enough to hold me before the final step after all this."

The standing figures did not react. They did not breathe any differently. But beneath their skin, the faint movements grew more active, sliding, gathering, converging toward their cores.

"For the first time since my imprisonment, I will leave this ruin."

The words were not triumphant.

They were certain.

It had already decided and had already begun.

"But a vessel must be able to endure my power. This shell cannot last long if that is so. It must be improved."

The standing figures shifted slightly.

"They all share the same foundation."

The voice moved through the bodies.

"They will create something better."

Silence followed.

Not empty silence.

Expectant silence.

Then the command came.

"Kill yourself."

The standing figures moved at once.

One raised its hand.

Without hesitation, its fingers drove into its own throat.

Flesh parted.

Blood spilled.

It did not cry out or resist.

Another followed.

Its hand plunged into its own chest, forcing past ribs with slow, grinding pressure.

Bone cracked.

Blood poured.

Still, it remained silent.

A third tilted its head sharply.

Its neck twisted too far.

A clean, final break.

One by one, they destroyed themselves.

Their bodies collapsed inward, essence spilling free.

The crystal veins flared brighter.

The prone figure at the center shuddered violently.

Its chest expanded.

Collapsed.

Expanded again.

Then from the air itself, a shadow emerged.

It gathered above the fallen vessels, coiling like smoke dragged by invisible gravity.

For a moment, it hovered. Then it plunged straight into the body at the center.

The prone figure convulsed.

Its back arched violently.

Fingers clawed into the stone floor hard enough to crack it.

Its mouth opened wide, but no scream emerged.

Beneath its skin, something moved.

The faint distortions beneath the flesh thickened, merging, sinking inward toward the core.

For several seconds, nothing happened. Then the body inhaled.

Its fingers twitched.

The laughter returned.

"...At last."

Suddenly, the ruin shook.

Crystal veins beneath the ground flared violently, and the air vibrated with a deep, grinding resonance that spread outward in all directions.

Across the plains, the infected reacted instantly.

They ran.

Figures that had once moved in slow, mindless procession now broke into desperate motion, sprinting across crystal-veined stone with reckless urgency. Their bodies tore themselves apart in their haste.

All toward one location.

The building.

They came from every direction, converging like iron drawn toward a magnet.

Inside the chamber, the body rose.

Slowly. Unsteadily.

It pushed itself upright, joints cracking as fresh strength flooded the vessel.

The vessel was human.

Well, mostly in human. At least in shape.

Tall.

Thin.

Its skin was pale to the point of translucence, crystal veins faintly visible beneath the surface, pulsing with dim inner light.

Its eyes opened fully.

Black.

Not dark.

Black.

There was no sclera. No iris.

Only depthless void.

It flexed its fingers.

"...Weak," it murmured softly.

It took a step forward toward the exit.

It stepped outside.

For the first time in centuries, it stood outside that trap-like building.

The endless twilight stretched above.

It inhaled again.

A deeper breath.

"This is freedom."

It was then that two forces descended.

They arrived without warning.

One sharp.

One absolute.

A blade of Sword Qi tore through the air, invisible yet undeniable, compressing space itself as it fell toward the figure’s neck. At the same instant, a second force struck from above, imperial Qi condensed into crushing authority, heavy enough to distort gravity.

Two attacks.

Perfectly timed and perfectly lethal.

The figure reacted instantly.

Its head turned slightly.

Its hand rose casually.

The attacks struck and shattered.

The Sword Qi broke apart like glass striking an immovable wall, fragments dispersing into nothing before reaching flesh. The imperial pressure collapsed inward, crushed and erased as if it had never existed.

The figure did not move.

But the building behind it did not survive.

The delayed force continued past it, slamming into the structure.

For a fraction of a second, nothing happened.

Then the entire building collapsed.

The structure that had endured centuries turned to dust in an instant, reduced to drifting fragments carried by dead air.

Silence followed.

The figure slowly lowered its hand.

Its black eyes shifted forward.

Two figures stood in the distance.

Unfamiliar.

One stood upright, posture straight, presence heavy with natural authority. The other stood slightly behind and to the side.

Relaxed.

Balanced.

One hand resting loosely at his side.

Sword intent radiated from him even without a drawn weapon, invisible yet sharp enough to cut.

Both were young and powerful.

If Michael had been here, he would have recognized them immediately.

The tenth prince. And Renn.

Dust drifted between them.

For a moment, no one moved.

Then the figure smiled.

Its lips stretched slowly, expression unfamiliar to the vessel wearing it.

"...Both of you are quite high grade," it said softly.

Its voice carried easily across the distance.