Evolving My Undead Legion In A Game-Like World

Chapter 120 Preparations

The man's words carried a terrace of double meaning.

It made sense—only a supernatural could truly understand another supernatural.

Michael's neighbor, who happened to be a peak mid-stage Knight, seemed to embody this notion.

But what surprised Michael more was how casually the man had spoken about his brother's death.

For a moment, his words made Michael suspect the two might have had a strained relationship—perhaps even worse. Maybe the man had left his brother to die, unwilling to save him from the claws of the monsters.

Though Michael's expression remained neutral, his wariness grew. He was already considering adding this neighbor to his blacklist when the man continued speaking.

"I'm sorry for my nephew's rude behavior. The death of my… brother must have been too much for him to handle—"

The man's voice faltered, choking on the words, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

Michael's sharp eyes noticed the man's clenched fists, trembling slightly as though he was restraining himself.

'He's pretending to be strong,' Michael thought, a faint trace of respect flickered within him.

"What happened to him?" Michael asked, glancing around the area.

The monsters were gone, and his undead stood motionless, their commands fulfilled.

Well, most of them anyway.

Lily and another female orc with water-manipulating abilities were fussing over a third female orc who shared Lily's fire affinity. The third female orc, however, seemed more intent on scrubbing the blood off herself than paying attention to them.

'A clean freak orc?' Michael mused, intrigued.

The intelligence and unique quirks of his rare-rank creatures never ceased to fascinate him.

Lucky, the gluttonous wolf with boundless potential, was a stark contrast to Prince, whose calm and responsible demeanor made him seem like the true elder brother of the army.

'They feel so alive despite being undead.'

Michael's thoughts were interrupted by the trembling voice of the youth from earlier.

Blood dripped from the boy's mouth as he spat bitterly, "You have so much power."

"My father didn't die immediately when the monsters appeared. We were holding on—until a stronger one came. But where were you? You were busy killing monsters that hadn't even attacked anyone yet!"

Michael's eyes narrowed as realization dawned.

'So that's what this is about…'

If there was something Michael could acknowledge was wrong about him, it was that he was too understanding.

The fact that he could reason with even a sliver of the demonic supernatural's mindset was proof of this, despite how evil their actions were.

Though he didn't want to dwell on it, Michael couldn't help but imagine: if he had been powerless right now, and something had happened to his family while he survived, his grief might have driven him to blame someone, no matter if it was fair or not.

But accusing others rudely was outright wrong—especially if he were the one on the receiving end of such disrespect.

Michael wasn't going to lie—he was quite concerned about gaining experience points. Even so, the first monsters he cleared were the ones that were closest to people and would pose an immediate threat to them before going after others to gain points.

There was no way he would let someone get killed when he had the power to stop it, no matter how tempting experience points were, those wouldn't make him flinch in such a situation.

Yet, here he was, not only Michael accused, but disrespected to his face—by someone who had just witnessed his capabilities.

It seemed that in this world, only the adults possessed a proper sense of reality, sensibility, and survival instincts.

At least, neither Michael, from Earth, nor the original soul inhabiting this body would dare to grip someone's shirt after seeing them move at blurring speed.

This scene made Michael remember a certain phrase he had often encountered as a novelist back on Earth—the phrase that would sometimes leave him cringing if used too many times in one sitting.

And yet, in the current situation, the saying seemed to fit perfectly.

This guy… was courting death.

The rude youth's body trembled as he stood and approached Michael, his voice laced with self-righteousness.

"I know all supernaturals are required to register with the Supers Association and protect the citizens. With your power, you're obviously someone who should carry the most responsibility, but you're nothing more than useless. If it was my uncle—"

Michael had no patience for the nonsense anymore, without a word, he immediately cast a skill on him.

"{Slow Curse}"

Though the skill was at basic mastery and offered limited effects on an evenly matched opponent, against an ordinary human, it was devastating.

Suddenly, the youth felt his movements turning slow. No, they didn't just slow—they halted completely.

Looking into Michael's cold, expressionless eyes, dread filled his heart.

The weight of Michael's overwhelming bloodlust washed over him, paralyzing the youth.

'I'm going to die,' he thought, terror clutching his heart.

Fortunately for him, Michael had no intention of killing him.

"Yes, I'm a member of the Supers Association, and yes, I'm tasked with protecting the public. But understand this—you are not entitled to my help simply because the Association has imposed this role on me. Be careful. I'm not as patient or forgiving as you might hope."

Michael's true feelings surfaced at that moment. He despised how his growing strength as a supernatural was forcing him to understand some of the twisted words spoken by the seniors on the forum—and even the warped ideologies of demonic supernaturals.

The Federation.

It was nothing short of a tyrant.

He was expected to risk everything, his life and the lives of his loved ones, putting himself in danger with no apparent reward—all for the Federation's cause. And if he refused? He would be branded a criminal. All because their power spanned across the entire realm, leaving no room for dissent.

Michael didn't know much about the Federation, which seemed to regard itself as a kingdom with supernaturals as its subjects. But from what he had seen so far, his impression of it was far from favorable.

Of course, this didn't mean Michael planned to go rogue. Doing so would bring him no benefits and would in fact cause more trouble.

As tyrannical as the Federation was, it still offered advantages like the resources and protections he couldn't afford to ignore.

This, and he also didn't dare to.

Releasing the curse, Michael watched as the rude youth nearly collapsed face-first to the ground, but his uncle caught him just in time.

Michael spoke, his voice like ice as he delivered his final words.

"Be careful who you speak to—especially people like me. You never know when someone might have the patience of a dog—none at all."

Surprisingly, Michael's neighbor didn't react to his use of power on the nephew.

Instead, the man acted as though it were normal, helping the boy up before addressing Michael.

"Thank you for going easy on him," the man said with a smile that carried a deeper meaning.

Michael felt a twinge of guilt. The man had just lost his brother, and now his nephew had been suppressed right in front of him—though the boy's rudeness had warranted it.

As for whether this would bring trouble later, Michael didn't dwell on it.

At most, the youth might try to stir up trouble, claiming Michael had abused his authority.

If the Supers Association made an issue of it after everything he'd done to protect the public, it would only worsen his opinion of the Federation.

Michael merely nodded at the man, ignoring the entitled nephew who, like so many other citizens, was blinded by a false sense of equality.

Turning to the crowd, Michael raised his voice.

"If you want to die, stay out here. More creatures will be coming through those cracks at any moment."

The moment his words landed, the spectators—who had been in awe of Michael's earlier display of power when he conjured a magic circle with a mere hand gesture—snapped back to reality.

Panic set in.

Some rushed to more secure buildings, while others moved about indecisively. The most fearful were the seriously injured.

Michael watched all of this.

Initially, Michael didn't plan to get too involved, but knowing his aunt's eyes were likely on him now, he stepped up to take charge.

Despite being one of the youngest present, Michael was undoubtedly the most powerful.

After his recent show of strength, no one dared oppose him.

However, his clear grasp of the situation soon earned him genuine respect.

Aware that the next wave of monsters was only minutes away, Michael moved quickly to organize the crowd.

He had his Verdant Wolf construct a dome-like shelter using thick, sturdy vines, directing people to take refuge inside.

Compared to the fragile structures of the buildings around him, Michael trusted the durability of the vine dome far more.

He also instructed the Verdant Wolf to wrap his apartment building in layers of vines, turning it into an armored fortress.

After the initial chaos subsided, Michael noticed people peeking out from their windows in nearby buildings. He sent word around the community, asking those hiding if they wanted to join him in the shelter or remain in their apartments. Experience new stories on empire

To ensure safety, Michael deployed his undead to accompany the teams spreading the message. He gave them specific instructions to handle any lurking monsters that might have been missed during the earlier skirmish.

While some of the supernaturals assisting him could handle a few stray creatures, an overwhelming number could lead to unnecessary casualties—something Michael wanted to prevent.