Chapter 94
Never treat the Land of Origin like a game.
It was a phrase Michael had seen countless times on the forums.
It was also a mantra he’d repeated to himself after nearly losing his life to an acid slime just a few days ago.
Never treat the Land of Origin like a game.
But only now was Michael beginning to grasp its true meaning.
The Land of Origin, at the end of the day, wasn’t just a game or a simulation.
It was real—as real as the world he had come from.
“I almost died…” Michael murmured, the words heavy on his lips.
The thought still felt surreal.
The reality of it lingered in his mind like a stubborn shadow, filling him with a deep, gnawing insecurity he had never felt before.
Yet as much as that realization rattled him, Michael knew there were more immediate concerns to address.
“{Undead Summoning}.”
Michael stretched out both his hands, and two greenish magic circles appeared before him.
From them emerged his two most powerful undead, Lucky and Prince.
However, both were in terrible condition.
Lucky’s left eye had been blinded, and dark green, corrosive blood dripped to the ground, eating away at the soil.
Its entire body was covered in deep scars, each leaking the same blood.
Prince, though in better shape, had lost its tail and bore several less severe wounds.
It was clear that Lucky had taken the brunt of the battle.
Thankfully, neither had perished, but they were in no condition to be used effectively in combat until they healed.
Unfortunately, this presented a significant problem.
Unlike living creatures, undead didn’t heal naturally, even if they retained certain traits from their past lives.
Some undead could heal, but only to a limited extent.
For example, Lucky and Prince’s bleeding would eventually stop, but that was as far as natural recovery due to still having flesh would take them.
If they were skeletal undead, healing that type would be more complicated.
Certain types of undead could also consume flesh to convert it into energy for regeneration.
There were also necromancer spells specifically designed to aid in their recovery.
But for now, the only option Michael had to help his injured undead was to provide them with fresh flesh to consume.
Michael felt a pang of guilt for leaving Lucky and Prince behind to stall for time.
But it had been a choice of survival—either he escaped, or all of them would perish.
At least by retreating, he could summon them back before it was too late.
As for them defeating that creature? It was impossible.
The creature was a three-star Extraordinary rank, two stars above Lucky and an entire major rank above Prince.
It was also at least twenty levels beyond Michael, evident from his inability to glean substantial information about it.
Such a being could obliterate them all in a single strike.
Michael suspected the only reason they were still alive was because the creature appeared weakened, likely having just awakened.
From its behavior—directly targeting him and calling him “food”—Michael realized that had he been caught, he’d have been used as a supplement for its recovery.
It wouldn’t have been a simple matter of nourishment either; based on the panel reaction, his death would have been certain.
As for why it ignored his undead, the answer was probably simple
The only part of an undead that could be considered “alive” was their souls, and even those were abstract.
“I think I’m starting to piece this together,” Michael muttered.
The ruin’s eerie silence, coupled with the complete absence of people, made him suspect that the creature was responsible for the devastation.
The tower, with its intricate design and focus on advanced weapon research and creation, suggested that its former inhabitants were likely the ones who created the monster.
Recalling the creature’s chilling, multi-layered voice, Michael felt his suspicions solidify.
The extravagance of the tower, its advanced constructs like the gargoyles made from precious materials—all pointed to the immense capabilities of its creators.
But perhaps they had overreached, creating something far beyond their control.
It seemed they had paid the ultimate price.
“It’s still not safe here. We need to move,” Michael said firmly.
Though his body ached from the creature’s mental assault and the strain of using a massive amount of mana to summon Lucky and Prince over such a great distance, he couldn’t let himself rest.
Michael wanted to put as much distance as possible between himself and the ruins, even though he had already fled a significant way.
Every instinct told him he needed to keep going.
Michael dismissed Lucky and Prince back to the Netherworld, their battered forms vanishing into greenish smoke.
In their place, he summoned the verdant wolf he had dismissed before entering the tower.
Climbing onto its back, he signaled his remaining undead to follow, and together they continued their journey through the dense woods.
As their figures flashed through the trees in a blur, Michael’s mind burned with a mix of fury and determination.
His lips pressed into a thin line as he swore silently. Find your next read on empire
“Sooner or later, just you wait… I’ll kill you!”
***
After running for a while, the tall, oppressive trees began to thin, gradually giving way to open grasslands.
When Michael finally emerged from the forest, he spotted something in the distance that brought a small smile to his face.
A massive wall standing proud a few hundred meters away, with people passing through its gates.
“Civilization, finally.”
However, Michael didn’t rush toward the wall.
He hesitated, glancing at himself and his undead.
They were far from presentable.
His clothes were tattered, his body showed signs of exhaustion, and his undead companions looked anything but welcoming.
Even if he were alone, he wouldn’t dare approach the gates in such a state.
With a contemplative frown, he turned back toward the forest.
“It’s not the right time to head there. I need to prepare first. Besides, it’s probably past noon in the real world by now. I should return and check on things.”
As Michael and his undead retreated into the cover of the trees, his thoughts drifted to the materials stored in his spatial storage.