Evolving My Undead Legion In A Game-Like World

Chapter 675: Arrival

In this universe, the concept of race was very real and very strict.

It was not like on Earth, where people spoke about race but in the end everyone was still human.

Here, that did not apply.

Even beings who looked like humans were not necessarily human or called that.

Even among humans themselves, things grew complicated.

The people of Aurora saw themselves simply as humans, but out there in the wider universe, other human branches existed. When other races spoke about them, they did not say humans.

They said Aurora humans.

To the universe, they were just one branch among many.

Imperial humans, Celestial humans, Voidborn humans... each with their own talents, history and bloodline quirks.

So when Michael looked at the warrior below, he did not just see a strong man in an animal skin skirt.

He saw a race.

And races did not mix so easily.

Aside from races that coexisted peacefully in the same realm, or those who formed alliances, or those whose worlds overlapped long enough to influence each other, mixed bloods in the universe often lived difficult lives.

Some mixed bloods were celebrated if their parent races were close allies.

Some were tolerated.

But many... many carried a strange and unfair burden.

Discrimination from both sides.

A child born between two incompatible races might be rejected by both. Considered impure. Considered a mistake. Considered something that did not belong anywhere.

As Michael watched the fight below, this truth slipped into his thoughts.

The large barbarian was definitely pure blooded from the Ancient Tribe Realm.

But the other one...

The slender barbarian with the light steps and delicate frame...

A barbarian should not look like that. Michael knew a bit about the variants of barbarians to know.

He was surely a mixed born.

”What race is he really?” Michael wondered silently. ”And is it okay for me to keep watching like this?”

There was etiquette in the supernatural universe.

Spying on others mid battle could be taken as hostility.

Especially if one was strong enough to change the flow of the fight.

Though Michael was in the open at a distance, he was not worried that the others would find him thanks to Blue and Purple’s illusion abilities that perfectly hid him.

Secondly was the power of the two below.

They were strong, but Michael could tell they were simply average Rank 2 powerhouses.

They fought like cultivators and not like class-driven awakeners.

But he could also be wrong. There were many awakeners whose foundations were very ordinary.

Still, to someone like Michael, they were only average.

And average could not see through Blue and Purple’s illusions.

He remained crouched on the ridge, senses calm and steady, eyes following the clash with increasing interest.

The fight grew fiercer. The massive pure barbarian roared, stomping the ground and sending a shockwave through the ice. Snow blasted upward. The mixed born slid backward several meters, boots barely skimming the ground, blade flicking out to deflect the tail end of the impact.

Michael felt the force even from his vantage point.

But it was nothing concerning.

He observed quietly, unmoving, letting Blue and Purple maintain the perfect concealment veil around him. The two undead were not only adept at illusions. They were instinctively attuned to the environment, spreading subtle distortions along the edges of sight and sound that made Michael feel like an empty space within the world.

Perfect for watching without being noticed.

His gaze returned to the mixed born and the pure barbarian.

”Should I intervene?” Michael wondered. ”Or keep watching?”

In the end Michael felt it was none of his business. In any case, the Ancient Tribe Realm was not an ally of Aurora, so there was no reason to concern himself with whatever grudges or personal battles their people carried. If anything, a death here might not be so bad for the one who lost.

Michael’s thoughts drifted for a moment.

Perhaps it was because of his increasingly deep connection with the dark element.

Perhaps it was the common sense he had absorbed from studying necromancy.

Or maybe it was simply the result of spending days reading topics like the bucket list of digging through dragon and gods graves.

Whatever the cause, Michael’s moral code had started to tilt in a way that would bother the righteous.

Now, the idea of two strangers killing each other in Hell did not stir him much.

He watched for a few seconds longer.

The pure barbarian roared again, bone sword cleaving down in a brutal diagonal. The mixed born twisted his body, blade sliding along the larger weapon, redirecting the force just barely enough to avoid having his chest split open. The shock still sent him skidding back, boots carving twin lines through the snow.

Blood stained the white ground in faint splatters.

”Mm.”

Michael exhaled softly.

His curiosity was satisfied.

Hell really was a crossroads.

Michael straightened from his crouch.

He gave the battlefield one last glance. He committed both figures to memory.

”I wonder if we’ll meet again. Preferably on better ground than this.”

Time would decide.

Michael turned away.

Blue and Purple adjusted around him, their illusion field flowing with his movement. To the two battling figures below, it was as if nothing had ever been there above them. Only snow, stone and the weight of their own battle.

The frozen plains opened before Michael.

He lifted his wrist slightly. The compact watch flickered, arrow steady, still pointing in the same direction as before.

”Back to work,” he murmured.

With that, he left the distant echoes of the barbarian clash behind, boots crunching into fresh snow as he followed the glowing arrow toward the Federation station.

In the Land of Origin, the other Michael had already landed in the capital and was currently staying in the Duke of Evermoon’s mansion.

Compared to the cold emptiness of Hell’s first floor, this place was the opposite.

Warm lantern light.

Soft carpets.

The faint fragrance of herbs and roasted meat drifting in the air.

Servants moving with practiced quiet.