Evolving My Undead Legion In A Game-Like World

Fortunately, only a few minutes remained. If everything proceeded according to plan, he could simply wait it out.

His thoughts had just reached that point when a cold, strange sensation suddenly crawled up his spine.

"…Wait."

Only then did Michael realize something critical.

"…Where's the fourth one?"

His pupils contracted. He had been so hyper-focused on the cataclysmic battle between the High Drake and the three monsters that he had subconsciously forgotten someone. The younger angel. She had never joined the fray.

It was at that exact moment a voice resonated through the air.

"Law Skill..."

"Grace of Light."

A brilliant, blinding light suddenly erupted in Michael's vision. It was soft at first, but it expanded exponentially. Like countless threads of dawn stretching violently through the void, the light reached toward him with terrifying precision.

Michael's instincts screamed in warning.

Without hesitation, he tore himself out of the surface layer of the void. The next instant, his figure materialized back in open space. Almost immediately, his gaze locked onto the figure floating not far away.

It was the younger angel.

She held a slender white wand in her hand, its surface carved with intricate golden lines that pulsed with a light that made Michael feel instinctively uncomfortable to his core. The aura it radiated was unmistakable.

Epic Grade.

Michael's eyelid twitched.

"…Again?"

Why did Epic Grade treasures suddenly feel so common here?

Outside, an item of this caliber would be enough to make powerhouses wage wars until rivers of blood flowed. Yet in the Fourth Layer of the Origin Battlefield, people seemed to pull them out one after another like cheap trinkets.

Setting the wand aside, Michael turned his attention to properly observing her.

Three pairs of pristine wings. Silver-white hair. Emerald eyes. A cold, flawless face that looked as though it were carved from pure moonlight. But what truly shocked Michael wasn't her ethereal beauty—it was her rank.

"…Rank Three?"

For a brief moment, Michael was genuinely stunned. He had always known there was a chance he wasn't the only one forced into a higher layer due to abnormal combat power; after all, the universe was vast. But he hadn't expected to run into another anomaly so soon.

Was it her race, her class, or a combination of both?

Though Michael wasn't deeply familiar with the Angel Race, he was no stranger to them either. Like demons, angels possessed their own unique domain.

However, unlike Hell, which was fractured into countless layered worlds, the angelic realm was one enormous, unified cosmos. And the race itself was absurdly powerful.

Even newborn angels started at Rank One at the very least, and those with greater potential could be born directly at Rank Two or Rank Three.

It was utterly unreasonable. If they weren't so inherently blessed, they wouldn't be classified as a race comparable to Dragons and Phoenixes.

However, in the wider universe, angels were not particularly well-liked. Aside from sharing a few arrogant, irritating traits with elves, they were considered cosmic parasites by many civilizations.

Angels could cultivate normally, but their most recognized path was the accumulation of faith. That alone wouldn't have been an issue if they only targeted ownerless realms or cultivated their own spaces.

Unfortunately, angels had a notorious habit of trying to spread their faith throughout the entire universe. Because of that, despite their holy appearance, they were treated somewhat as a public enemy by many major forces.

Michael's gaze sharpened.

A Rank Three angel with an Epic Grade wand. Setting aside the weapon, he was far more wary of her rank. Outside the Origin Battlefield, he wouldn't have given her a second thought, but sharing the same rank in the same elevated layer meant there was surely something special about her.

Michael had a dark expression on his face.

The moment he re-emerged from the void, three terrifying gazes landed on him simultaneously.

For an instant, it felt as though three massive mountains had crashed down upon his shoulders. His muscles tensed, and he prepared to teleport away again.

But contrary to his expectations, those three heavy gazes only lingered on him for a fleeting moment before snapping back to the High Drake. They were completely ignoring him.

Michael froze slightly. "They're dismissing me?"

It was then the female angel spoke, her cold voice carrying a hint of surprise.

"You truly are Rank Three. Lord Seraphiel mentioned it earlier as a suspicion, but I still found it difficult to believe."

As she spoke, Michael felt an invisible, intrusive ripple sweep across him.

[Detect]

His eyelid twitched. The stronger he became, the more he understood why having someone use a detection skill on you was so infuriating.

It felt like a stranger trying to peel away your clothes with their eyes—uncomfortable, rude, and extremely annoying.

Michael's expression turned icy.

Seeing that the other three entities weren't moving to attack him, he looked back at the angel girl and retorted.

"So what? If you can enter this place as a Rank Three, why can't I?"

The female angel remained silent, her emerald eyes shifting slightly as she evaluated him.

For a moment, neither spoke. Behind them, the High Drake roared in agony and fury. The sky trembled as a torrential rain of swords pounded against its massive body, met by erupting waves of black flames.

Michael didn't bother turning around to watch; his gaze remained locked on the angel.

She held the Epic Grade wand quietly, her expression perfectly calm. But Michael could tell she was studying him just as intensely as he was studying her.

He wasn't afraid of her. Cautious? Certainly. But afraid? No.

If by some ridiculous chance he couldn't deal with her personally, he still had thousands of undead at his disposal.

True, against the three monsters currently battling his High Drake, his legion would amount to little more than cannon fodder, and a fight to the death would only end in mutual destruction.

But against this single angel? Michael refused to believe she could withstand the full, crushing force of his undead army. Even if she possessed abnormal combat power like himself, there had to be a limit.

Still, Michael had absolutely no intention of revealing his trump card.

Still, Michael had absolutely no intention of revealing his trump card.

His eyes casually swept across the horizon.

Although nothing was visible to the naked eye, his sharpened senses could vaguely detect numerous faint energy fluctuations scattered throughout the surrounding areas and deep within the void.

The other Rank Four awakeners were lurking nearby. There were quite a lot of them, but none approached; they simply observed from a safe distance.

Whether they were merely curious or patiently waiting to play the part of the fisherman profiting from the clash between the snipe and the clam, Michael neither knew nor cared. Either possibility was troublesome.

Fortunately, the three strongest entities currently present seemed to have completely underestimated him. From the girl's words, he could tell that from their perspective, he was merely an unusually talented Rank Three carrying a valuable treasure.

That misunderstanding was precisely what Michael wanted.

The longer they believed his only threat was a quick escape, the better.

As for whether their opinions would change in the future, that was a problem for later.

His absolute priority right now was to safely escape with the treasure without sustaining any losses.