Evolving My Undead Legion In A Game-Like World

Chapter 853: Hostages?

The meaning behind those words was simple.

High grade.

It saw them not as opponents or as people, but as vessels.

At a glance, it could already perceive the structure of their souls and bodies, the integrity of their foundations, the stability of their meridians, and the density of their essence.

Either one of them alone was sufficient to house its soul, sufficient to carry it beyond this ruin, and if given time, either vessel could allow it to recover and possibly even possess greater strength than it did before its imprisonment.

It was not wrong.

The tenth prince of the Lionheart kingdom and Renn were not ordinary.

One carried the blood of royalty.

The tenth prince was the most favored prince of the Lionheart kingdom, so he never lacked resources. From birth, his foundation had been tempered through rare medicines, protected cultivation methods, and ancestral inheritance. Beneath his flesh flowed a bloodline that had endured for generations.

The other was different.

Renn had no royal lineage or vast inheritance, no mountains of resources poured into him from birth, yet within him existed something rarer.

The root of swordsmanship.

It was not something granted by blood or wealth. It was not something that could be bought or transferred either. It was born through comprehension so deep that the sword ceased to be a weapon and became part of the self.

His foundation was clean, pure, sharp, and in some ways, even superior.

In any era, people like the prince were common to see but individuals like Renn were as rare as Phoenix feathers.

They were simply exceptional.

Individually, both were exceptional.

Together, they were perfect.

One provided stability and bloodline.

The other provided purity and transcendence.

Either could serve as a vessel.

Both could serve as materials to create an even greater vessel.

Across the ruined ground, the tenth prince felt a chill crawl down his spine.

He could not explain it.

There was no visible killing intent or overwhelming pressure, yet the figure’s gaze made his instincts scream.

Beside him, Renn felt it as well.

His fingers tightened slightly around the hilt of his sword.

The wooden grip was familiar.

The remnant of the wooden sword he had carried since childhood had been preserved and integrated into this blade gifted by his teacher, its accumulated comprehension transforming it into something far beyond ordinary steel.

Neither spoke or hesitated before they attacked again. At this point, anyone with eyes could tell this strange figure was the cause of the entire situation in the ruin, and it was likely in no way good news.

They attacked, this time without restraint.

The tenth prince moved first.

His sword left its sheath in a smooth, controlled motion.

The blade gleamed faintly, its surface etched with ancient channels designed to conduct energy without resistance.

This was a gift from his aunt for his expedition, a weapon taken from the kingdom treasury specifically for him.

It was not an ordinary treasure.

The sword held a finite reserve of recoverable Qi, sealed within its core. Each time it was drawn, that Qi could be awakened and directed, then slowly restored over time.

It had once belonged to the Second King of the Lionheart Kingdom, a genius who had walked the path of swordsmanship.

Under his hands, the weapon had carved through battlefields and legends alike, until it was sealed away as an inheritance, too valuable to be wasted on mediocrity.

But that was only part of its value.

The blade had been forged not only as a weapon, but as a conduit.

Every channel etched into its surface was designed to conduct Qi with near-perfect efficiency. In the hands of a skilled mage, it functioned no differently from a high-grade wand, allowing spells to be formed faster, stabilized more easily, and released with far greater precision.

That was the true reason his aunt had given it to him.

Not to turn him into a swordsman.

But to amplify what he already was.

The prince’s talent had always been compared to his aunt’s for a reason. Their strength lay in magic.

However, the Lionheart bloodline did not favor magic alone.

It tempered the body as well.

Those of Lionheart blood rarely lacked close combat ability, even if their primary path was not the blade.

And the prince had never been the type to rely on a single advantage.

He pushed energy into the sword’s channels.

The weapon responded instantly.

The sealed Qi inside it stirred, awakened by the bloodline, and mixed with his own power in a controlled flow. Energy flowed through it smoothly, without resistance, stabilizing beneath his control.

The edge grew sharper without changing shape. The air around it compressed.

The prince stepped forward.

He made a cut.

A crescent of sword light flew out.

Renn followed and stepped in behind the prince’s attack and cut along a different line.

One strike high.

One strike low.

The figure watched both attacks arrive.

Then it lifted its hand.

A flick of fingers.

Wind gathered.

A thin, concentrated sheet of airflow, compressed until it became a transparent barrier.

The prince’s sword crescent struck it and split apart.

The force was sliced into two halves and redirected harmlessly into the ground on either side, carving twin trenches that smoked where crystal veins were exposed.

Renn’s cut arrived a heartbeat later.

The figure reacted instantly.

The air in front of it flashed with pale blue frost.

A film of ice formed instantly.

Renn’s sword qi hit it.

The ice cracked but held before it shattered outward in a burst of shards that tore across the space between them like razors.

Renn leaned, twisting his shoulders, blade moving in a small circle.

The shards missed his throat by a hair and embedded in the ground behind him, sizzling as they melted into steam.

The prince did not slow.

His second strike came immediately, the sword’s Qi surging again, channeled into a thrust that compressed into a single point.

The figure’s expression did not change.

Earth rose as a slab of stone pulled from beneath the crystal-veined ground, dense and thick, layered with darker mineral like armor.

The thrust hit and the slab exploded.

But behind it, the figure had already moved half a step.

It tilted its head slightly.

”Is that all?” it said, voice calm.

The prince answered with action.

He slashed again, this time with a wide arc that dragged Qi through the air and formed a cutting field.

Renn slipped into that field as he moved with the prince’s cut, using it as cover, his own sword qi sharpening to a thin line.

One step.

Two.

Then a sudden burst. His blade appeared at the figure’s ribs in an instant.

The figure countered with fire.

A vertical flare ignited between them.

Renn’s blade met the fire.

His attack held for a fraction of a second, pushing through.

The tip reached cloth.

Then the figure’s skin.

A thin line opened.

Black blood seeped out.

Renn’s eyes sharpened.

He had cut it.

The figure looked down at the wound with mild surprise.

Then it smiled.

It lifted its palm and water condensed in the air, drawn from nothing, forming a thin stream that wrapped around the wound and sealed it. The flesh pulled together unnaturally fast, leaving only a faint mark.

”Good,” it murmured.

The tenth prince narrowed his eyes.

”Who are you?”

His voice carried clearly across the fractured ground.

The figure tilted its head slightly.

For a moment, it did not answer.

Then its lips curved faintly.

”You may call me...”

It paused, as if selecting something from memory long buried.

”...Veyrion.”

Renn felt the hairs on his arms rise for reasons he could not name.

The prince tightened his grip on his sword.

”Veyrion,” he repeated, steady. ”You caused this ruin. The infestation. The orbs.”

It did not deny it.

It did not confirm it either.

Its black eyes moved between them slowly.

”I did not expect such vessels to arrive so soon,” Veyrion said softly.

Its gaze lingered on the prince’s sword.

Then on Renn’s grip.

”Your foundations are... pleasing.”

The words sent a chill down Renn’s spine.

The prince’s expression hardened.

He raised his sword again.

”We didn’t come here to entertain you.”

Veyrion’s smile widened slightly.

”Yes,” it said.

”I am aware.”

It lifted its hand slowly.

”Unfortunately,” it continued calmly, ”I do not have time to entertain you either.”

The next thing both youths saw was their vision filled with darkness as they lost consciousness.

Soon their bodies floated to Veyrion’s side and stayed there in mid air.

However, just as Veyrion was about to move to another location to complete its preparations to leave this ruin perfectly, it turned to a certain spot and spoke.

”Why don’t you come out now?” it said as it stared at the empty air.

Nothing happened until a few seconds later, when a youth with green eyes appeared out of nowhere.

”You’re quite sensitive,” Michael stated.