Evolving My Undead Legion In A Game-Like World

Chapter 604: Spies

Soon, Michael departed.

He ordered a ride to the capital of Vessara.

The country had eighteen states in total, and its capital lay three states away from where he currently was.

Normally, that would have meant a long journey if it had been on earth, but thanks to the network of special roads, Michael estimated the trip would take no more than five hours if they maintained speed.

Inside the AI-driven car, with little else to occupy his time, Michael reached into his storage space. A familiar law seed appeared in his palm.

Without hesitation, he activated his Eye of Truth.

*

A few hours later.

In Thornvale, the sun had risen and the residents were already stirring for a new day.

Since the new viscount had taken power, not much had changed on the surface, but the people could feel a subtle improvement in their daily lives.

At the very least, the guards had started acting like proper guards, no longer bullying them. There were even times when the manor shared food with the homeless.

These days, the people of Thornvale carried a bit more hope, their faces showing more smiles than before.

But while life outside the manor was beginning to look brighter, the lord’s estate itself was as silent as a ghost house.

The reason was simple.

Their lord had been missing for three days. Panic had spread quickly, especially with the Everlong Forest showing strange signs again. Even those staff members who had never cared for their lord found themselves worried—if not out of loyalty, then out of fear that his disappearance might implicate them.

The twist came when, that very morning, they saw their lord seated in his office as though nothing had happened.

And though many wanted to ask questions, a single word from Michael silenced them all. They had no choice but to swallow their doubts.

”Captain Rohan...” Michael muttered softly as he watched the man leave his study, closing the door behind him.

Though Rohan hadn’t asked a thing aside from giving him a very deep subtle look, Michael was certain the man had his suspicions. After the uproar in the forest and his own disappearance, it would have been strange if Rohan hadn’t.

In the past, Michael might have worried about such things—he disliked anything that could draw unwanted attention. But now? With eight Rank 3 undead under his command and the ability to fight a genuine Rank 3 himself, he found he cared far less.

His thoughts shifted quickly.

”Since you’re here already, why are you still hiding?” Michael said aloud without turning toward any particular corner of the room.

A second passed. Two. Then, from the shadows, a figure emerged.

It was Lyra.

”Good morning,” the dark elf greeted with ”respect”.

Michael ignored the subtle tone in her voice and only gave a casual nod.

”Seeing as you’re here this early, I doubt it’s because you were worried about me.”

Lyra remained silent, powerless to respond. Not only had her most prized concealment skill failed against this youth yet again, but he also controlled her life and death through the contract that bound them.

Michael knew well there was no way she was worried for him. If anything, the only thing that might have concerned her was whether he’d return alive. And even that was not for his sake, but for her own.

The contract binding her soul could only be undone in three ways.

One: if a being stronger than Michael forcibly broke it, though that risked a backlash.

Two: if Michael himself chose to release her.

Three: if Michael died, causing the bond to dissolve naturally.

Unfortunately for her, none of those paths seemed remotely within reach.

Worse part was, she could sense he had gotten stronger.

Lyra finally broke the silence. ”I’ve sensed several figures lurking in the dark around the territory,” she said quietly, her eyes narrowing. ”Their attention is fixed on the manor.”

Michael’s brow lifted, though his expression hardly changed. He wasn’t surprised. ”I see... and do you know where they’re from?”

Even as he asked, his mind was already moving through possibilities.

Princess Priscilla was the first. The powerful woman had her suspicions about him being an Awakener. Even after his denial, she hadn’t seemed the type to let go so easily. If she truly wanted proof, she might have sent people to observe him.

The second possibility was Duke Evermoon. After all, this was still the duke’s territory. It made sense the old man would want first-hand reports of whatever occurred in Thornvale.

And then, of course, there were the local troublemakers. The barons and knights who resented losing their freedom, or perhaps even the count above him, could have sent spies.

Michael’s suspicions were confirmed when Lyra finally answered. ”I believe they’re from the count. Unfortunately...” Her lips thinned, her voice lowering. ”I couldn’t investigate too closely without risking exposure. At least one of the figures was no weaker than me.”

Michael’s eyes narrowed slightly. That piece of information carried weight. Lyra wasn’t weak—her concealment and blade-work were leagues above most ordinary agents. For her to admit parity meant this was no simple spy.

But instead of showing concern, Michael leaned back in his chair, his expression calm, almost indifferent.

Michael tapped a finger lightly against the armrest. ”Why do you say it’s the count?”

”I don’t have concrete evidence,” Lyra admitted. ”But I don’t believe the barons or knights could cultivate experts of this level. Their reach and resources are far too limited. To field someone on my level... it would take a patron with far deeper influence.”

Michael’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he gave no outward sign of surprise. ”So you’re certain it isn’t them.”

”Yes,” she said firmly. ”Even if it’s not the count, it should be someone above the baron and knights.”

Michael rose from his seat, his cloak brushing lightly against the polished floor. His gaze lingered on Lyra for a moment, then shifted to the window where morning light spilled faintly through the curtains.

He turned away from the window and began walking toward the door, his steps steady, unhurried.

”Come. Follow me.”