Evolving My Undead Legion In A Game-Like World

Chapter 482: Chapter 482 Clown

Michael’s breath caught for a moment.

”Memory Harvest...”

He hadn’t seen this skill being used before but it was certainly interesting.

The last skill flickered into view.

[Mind Nest – Advanced Mastery]

Generates a psychic field.

Those within the field experience gradual Focus degradation, lowered mental resistance, and emotional disruption.

Extended exposure induces fatigue, poor judgment, and suggestibility.

Especially effective on groups, amplifying paranoia or fear.

The effect is subtle and builds slowly.

Can be suppressed or concentrated on specific targets.

Michael whistled softly.

It was... beautiful. In a horrifying way.

A weapon of erosion.

Michael stepped back from the floating interface and looked down at the creature on the ground.

He studied it in silence. Based on its abilities, its history, and the fact that its race rank matched that of his highest-level undead, Michael figured it deserved a name.

But before that, he cast [Undead Summoning] on the lump of flesh.

Only after the spell succeeded did his thoughts return to the topic he’d been considering earlier, while conveniently ignoring the fact that he could also evolve it.

A name.

And then it came to him.

”Clown.”

Michael said it aloud, letting the sound settle into the forest air.

Yes. That was it.

Clown.

Unpredictable. Unsettling. Possessing too many personas—or none at all. A creature that could smile as it hollowed out your mind and left nothing behind.

It fit perfectly.

The erratic nature of its abilities. The mental manipulation. The way it crept into others without warning, dancing through minds like a performer in a macabre show.

It wasn’t majestic. It wasn’t noble.

Clown.

Michael exhaled quietly, his gaze locked on the creature that now responded to the name.

A soft pulse flickered across its surface—almost as if it understood.

[Undead Named: Clown]

He nodded, satisfied.

Puppeteer could’ve worked too.

If the monster had a class, that would surely be it.

Now that he was done with Clown—whom he had just sent to the Netherworld—Michael figured he finally had the time to check the effects of his class item.

At the thought, he reached into his storage space and pulled out a coffin-like object.

[Damaged Coffin of the Forgotten]

Effect 1 – Eternal Call: Summon an Undead from the netherworld. The summoned creature will be one Rank lower than the user’s highest contracted undead and will remain for 24 hours or until destroyed. Requires massive energy consumption depending on the summoned creature level.

Effect 2 – Gate of Death: Laying within the coffin allows the user to transfer their consciousness to the Netherworld.

Effect 3 – Gravekeeper’s Claim (Passive): If the user is killed, the coffin anchors their soul, allowing resurrection after 10 years in a random location in the Netherworld. Usable once every 100 years and after the second resurrection, the item will be destroyed.

The item was certainly worthy of its rank—its effects alone made that clear.

However, no matter how impressive they sounded, Michael wanted to test them now rather than be caught off guard later.

He had some speculations about Effect 1.

A rank lower than his highest undead—which was currently a Three-Star Extraordinary Rank—could mean either a Two-Star Extraordinary undead or a Three-Star Rare one.

If it was the latter, then the effect would be nearly useless to him. He didn’t exactly lack high-rank undead anymore.

But if it was the former—and especially considering the description mentioned the word consuming—then the item might allow him to choose what kind of undead to summon within that limit.

If that were true, then the effect was still quite valuable.

Without wasting any more time, Michael decided to try it out immediately.

He placed his hand on the coffin-like object and activated the effect..

The object of consumption, Michael decided was his own mana.

He didn’t hesitate—he pushed in at least 80% of his total pool.

And one shouldn’t underestimate what that meant.

Maybe he needed a direct comparison to truly understand, but Michael was confident that this amount of mana already far surpassed what most Rank 2 mages could produce in total.

His mana pool had always been abnormally high, and with the recent evolutions and boosts from his class advancement, that gap had only widened.

So when the item responded—its surface glowing with layered runes and pulsing softly like a living heart—Michael stepped back slightly, eyes fixed on the result.

Now, he just had to see what it would create.

*

The Netherworld.

It was a realm of death.

The sky above was a stagnant sea of swirling gray mist, thick like oil and churning without wind. The land below was uneven and jagged, formed of black stone and bone-white ash. Monolithic structures—broken statues, skeletal trees, and rotting ruins—jutted from the landscape like forgotten gravemarkers.

And the creatures...

Ghosts drifted without destination—translucent and whispering. Skeletal beasts stalked through the fog, locked in silent battles or simply existing. Giant centipede-like horrors slithered in the far distance, dragging mounds of flesh behind them as offerings to something unseen.

And amidst it all... were undead.

Thousands—millions. Some were mindless, hunched over in endless procession. Others stood tall, regal, remnants of long-dead kings and generals, their souls too stubborn to fade.

This was the Netherworld.

A place for the dead.

*

In a certain region of the Netherworld—where the mist curled lower and the ground cracked with every silent step—an event unlike any other occurred.

A gate appeared.

It did not roar or tear reality apart.

It simply... opened.

A shimmering tear in space, black at the center and lined with slow-turning runes. It hovered inches above the ash-covered ground, pulsing with the rhythm of a heartbeat that didn’t belong to this world.

The moment it did, everything changed.

Undead—scattered across thousands of miles—froze.

Then, as if pulled by invisible strings, they turned.

Some were beasts—hulking abominations of bone and sinew. Others were soldiers, still wearing rusted armor from wars long forgotten. Even the floating wraiths that had no true form seemed to hesitate... and then drift forward.

Toward the gate.

A compulsion surged through the Netherworld like a silent bell only the dead could hear.

It was like a summon.

*****

A/N: Happy New Week, guys—it’s _Drakon.

The mass release was supposed to drop today, but I got hit with what most authors dread: a block. Not exactly writer’s block—I know what I want to write—but my current mood is affecting the quality. Nothing I write feels quite right, and I’d rather let the feeling pass than push out something that doesn’t meet my standards.

I’m really sorry for the delay. But as someone who’s released two mass drops in the past seven days, please trust that I’ll deliver on my promise.

Thanks for reading—and there’s a chance another Chapter might still drop after this. Stay tuned.