Evolving My Undead Legion In A Game-Like World

Chapter 793: Taken By Surprise

Michael had a lot to say about his first kidnapping experience.

However, it was so much that he could only express it in a few words.

The first was that you really do not know how mad people can be up there when they look so normal up close.

Another was why in the heavens was he being kidnapped.

Yes.

At some point during the confrontation between Arven and Caelum, where he was carried around like some form of goods, Michael had woken up from whatever technique Caelum had cast on him.

Caelum would never have expected that Michael’s sensitivity to danger and energy was so high that it could knock him out of unconsciousness.

The issue now was that Michael could not let Caelum become aware that he was awake, lest he be put back to sleep. But he also could not wait long enough for Caelum to return to the real world.

At least in Hell, Michael had some sort of advantage. The moment they returned to Aurora, no matter what advantage the current Michael had, in terms of raw power, he would not be able to do anything if Caelum wanted to act against him.

All this meant only one thing.

He needed to find an opportunity to escape.

As for Arven.

Michael did not really trust the director.

Even back at the academy, he only felt safe around him because they were within academy grounds.

Outside the academy, Michael would rather have nothing to do with him.

So yes.

What Michael wanted was to escape. Not only escape, but escape from Arven as well.

But for now, he could only wait for an opportunity.

Michael did not move.

His body remained limp in Caelum’s grasp, breathing shallow and steady, presence dulled to the point of near absence.

Whatever chaos unfolded around them, none of it touched him. The pressure field Caelum maintained was absolute, layers of controlled force diverting every stray ripple of energy away from where Michael hung suspended. Blades of compressed air passed overhead. Fire and ice shattered against invisible barriers before they could even graze him.

If not for Arven’s interference, Caelum might have caught on that his unconscious victim was not so unconscious again.

It helped that he was good at this too.

As a necromancer who had spent most of his time around corpses since gaining his powers, Michael was quite good at playing dead.

The fight resumed in full when Arven caught up.

And while the titans collided, Michael waited.

The clash intensified.

Air howled as Caelum pressed harder.

Arven responded in kind.

The exchange was violent enough to scar the sky, yet strangely restrained.

It was obvious why.

Arven did not push all the way.

No matter how wildly his manifestations moved, every attack curved subtly away from Michael’s position.

Caelum noticed.

His eyes narrowed, calculations snapping into place as he felt the limits Arven imposed on himself. The director could escalate further. He simply chose not to. And that hesitation created openings.

Caelum took them.

The pressure thickened around Michael. Caelum shifted his stance, using Michael’s position as a fixed point, forcing Arven to divide his attention with every exchange. Each time Arven adjusted to avoid collateral damage, Caelum struck.

The battlefield shook under the strain.

And through it all, Michael remained untouched.

The mad Arven moved first.

Fire tore through the air as a spiraling mass of flames condensed around his arm, then detonated forward in a brutal arc, the heat warping the sky itself.

Caelum reacted instantly. The air before him compressed into layered walls, each one collapsing just as the fire struck.

The impact boomed, sending shockwaves rippling across the clouds below as both men were hurled backward, still airborne.

Caelum recovered faster.

He pivoted in midair.

His hand rose and twisted, fingers closing as if gripping the sky itself. The air between them compressed, then snapped forward in layered crescents that tore through space in staggered waves.

The mad Arven howled with laughter and charged straight through them.

Flames wrapped around his body like living armor. Each crescent struck, collapsed, and detonated against the fire, shredding layers of heat but never fully dispersing it.

Arven punched through the last wave and swung, a burning fist trailing a vortex of fire that spiraled outward like a drill.

Caelum did not block.

He vanished sideways, the blow passing where his head had been an instant earlier. The fire vortex continued on, ripping a glowing scar across the sky before dissipating. Caelum reappeared higher, already moving again, palm thrust forward.

The air detonated.

A concentrated lance of pressure screamed downward, slamming into the mad Arven’s shoulder and driving him off balance. Fire exploded outward as Arven spun, barely stabilizing himself with a violent burst that sent him rocketing upward again.

They never stopped moving.

Then the trembling Arven moved.

Cold surged outward in a wide radius, frost blooming through the air itself. Caelum felt the emotional weight hit again, a wave of dread riding the temperature drop. He adjusted instantly. The pressure around Michael thickened further, isolating him completely, while Caelum angled his retreat upward to escape the worst of the influence.

The cold followed as a creeping field that spread through space, slowing the air itself.

The vacant Arven lifted his hand.

The hollow corridor snapped open beneath Caelum’s feet, space thinning and pulling him downward in a sudden, silent drag. Caelum twisted mid-fall, detonating pressure outward to rupture the corridor before it could fully form. The pull broke, but not cleanly. His trajectory shifted, dropping him closer than he wanted.

The mad Arven was already there.

Fire crashed into him like a meteor.

Caelum crossed his arms and released pressure in a violent burst, blasting the fire apart at point-blank range. The explosion sent both of them tumbling in opposite directions, spiraling through smoke and distortion.

Caelum stabilized first.

He forced distance again.

The cold Arven raised his hand.

The air stilled.

Caelum felt resistance immediately. He compensated by increasing output of raw power.

The stillness pressed harder, flattening the space between them into a dull, stubborn resistance.

Caelum shifted his angle again, refusing to let the distance collapse.

And then it happened.

At the edge of Caelum’s pressure field, Michael moved.

Raw strength surged outward from him in a violent burst, and the pressure that had held him like a cradle cracked. For a heartbeat, Michael’s body fought against the invisible force surrounding him, muscles tightening as if he were tearing through chains.

Caelum’s head snapped toward him, shock flashing across his face for the first time.

”Come back!” Caelum shouted, rage ripping through the sky.

Michael did not listen.

He ripped himself free completely.

The moment his feet found air, he exploded forward, speed turning into a sonic boom that cracked the sky open. A ring of compressed sound expanded behind him as he shot away, a streak of motion vanishing into the distance.

Even Arven froze.

All five of him paused at once.

Then everyone reacted.

Caelum moved first, pressure snapping beneath his feet as he launched after Michael like a storm.

Arven followed an instant later, the four manifestations scattering into the sky.

Far ahead, Michael kept running.

Michael felt it before he saw it.

The air screamed as Caelum closed the gap in a single violent surge, distance collapsing faster than Michael had expected.

Too close.

Michael’s eyes sharpened. His instincts did not hesitate.

Just as Caelum’s fingers stretched forward, Michael activated his law.

There was no light.

No sound.

No dramatic surge of energy.

For a single heartbeat, it felt as if something mysterious had opened its eyes inside him.

Wisdom.

Michael’s perception sharpened beyond clarity. The world slowed.

Then he moved.

There was no sonic boom this time.

No explosion of sound or pressure.

Michael simply vanished.

Caelum’s hand closed on nothing.

His eyes widened.

”What?” Caelum muttered in shock.

Michael was already far ahead.

Caelum reacted instantly.

Pressure thundered outward beneath his feet as he surged forward again, output spiking sharply. The sky screamed in protest as he forced distance to collapse by sheer power alone.

”Boy, running away now is a nation crime! Come back if you don’t want to implicate yourself!”

Michael ignored Caelum’s words and just focused on increasing the distance. For a while, three groups of individuals made a circle around the world on the 15th floor of hell.

A few seconds later, Michael felt it.

A presence.

It slid into existence beside him with impossible smoothness, as if it had always been there.

Arven.

The original.

He matched Michael’s speed effortlessly, walking through the sky as if velocity itself meant nothing. His hands were in his pockets. His coat did not flutter. His eyes were calm, sharp, and very awake.

Michael’s heart slammed.

Too close.

Way too close.

Arven’s hand came out of his pocket and stretched toward his shoulder.

It was obvious what his intentions were.

Michael did not hesitate.

Space.

The world folded and Michael disappeared.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​