Evolving My Undead Legion In A Game-Like World

A few days later…

A certain location in the Land of Origin.

Michael was currently undertaking another bronze level task.

Like his previous ones, it was also a dangerous one he had taken solo.

This task especially was one that need at least 20 strong bronze level hunters to handle.

Michael stood atop a wind-swept ridge, his gaze fixed on the valley below.

The ground was scorched black, dotted with the skeletal remains of trees and charred boulders that still sizzled with heat.

The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows over the battlefield.

He rolled his shoulders once, tightening his grip on the dark iron spear in his hands.

This was a Bronze-level task. A solo request issued by one of the nearby base towns—”Subjugate the fire lions infesting Ashroot Valley.”

Most squads wouldn’t take it. And even then, only if they could handle fire type monsters.

Michael came alone.

Because to him, this wasn’t a mission. It was a warm-up.

Another experience giver.

With a deep breath, he leapt down into the scorched valley.

The ground cracked beneath his landing, a small crater forming beneath his feet.

The moment he touched down, three fire lions erupted from the brush, roaring as flames danced along their manes.

Each one was the size of a small car, muscles thick and coiled, eyes glowing molten orange.

Michael’s expression didn’t change.

One came at him fast, its body low and flames flaring as it pounced.

Michael spun his spear in a lazy arc and slammed the butt of it into the side of the lion’s face.

There was a loud crunch.

The beast was sent hurtling sideways, its massive body tumbling across the blackened dirt before it slammed into a jagged rock and slumped.

Michael didn’t even glance that way.

The next came from the right, fire flaring wildly from its claws. It leapt for his throat.

He stepped to the side and drove the spear upward through its underbelly, the black steel punching through flesh and bone as easily as paper.

The lion screeched, thrashing wildly, flames igniting around them.

Michael twisted the spear, then yanked it free.

The lion collapsed in a heap of smoldering fur.

The third hesitated.

Michael met its gaze, eyes calm.

“Run.”

It didn’t.

The fire lion roared and charged, flames bursting from its paws, turning the ground beneath it to ash.

Michael surged forward.

A blur.

He struck the lion’s skull with the shaft of his spear and sent it flying into the air. Before it could hit the ground, he was already above it, descending like a bolt of judgment.

He slammed his knee into its spine.

The crack echoed through the valley like thunder.

The fire lion let out a final gurgle before going still.

Michael straightened, spinning his spear once before resting it on his shoulder.

More rustling came from the distance.

Not three.

Not five.

At least two dozen more fire lions emerged from the burning forest. Each one snarling, frothing, their bodies leaking heat into the air.

The ground trembled as they surrounded him. A pack. An entire pride.

Michael simply breathed.

He flicked his wrist, and the black spear glowed faintly.

A fire lion charged from the side. Michael ducked, swept its legs, and crushed its throat with a downward stab.

Another leapt from behind.

Michael rolled forward, dodged the flames, and struck with such speed that the spear seemed to vanish and reappear in its skull.

Again and again.

He moved like a phantom.

Fire burst all around him, but the flames couldn’t touch him. His body moved on instinct, honed by countless battles.

Soon.

Twenty dead lions.

Michael exhaled.

The rest hesitated.

He stepped forward, eyes cold.

“You won’t run?”

This time, they listened.

They turned and fled, tails low and bodies twitching with fear.

Michael watched them disappear into the smoking undergrowth, not moving an inch. Then, slowly, he began to walk—calm, measured steps in the same direction the lions had vanished.

He could’ve killed them all.

But he didn’t.

Because this wasn’t just about clearing the task anymore. He wanted to find what was behind it—who was behind it.

A higher-tier monster, probably an elite variant.

So he let them run.

The guild didn’t ask for a partai clearing but a complete clean up.

He followed their trail with quiet patience, his spear resting against his shoulder, boots crunching over blackened soil.

The deeper he went, the heavier the air became—thicker with smoke, but also with mana. Fire-aspected energy clung to the trees like a smothering blanket.

Every few steps, he passed another half-burned corpse of an animal—some small, others large. All of them dead from heat, not claws.

Then he found tracks.

Massive ones.

At least twice the size of a regular fire lion’s paws, pressed deep into the ash like molten brands. They led further east, deeper into the valley, where the heat shimmered like a curtain. Michael stepped through it without hesitation.

And paused.

There it was.

A clearing.

At its center stood an enormous obsidian boulder, cracked and smoking with veins of red heat glowing inside. And resting at its base, half-curled like a sleeping god, was the monster he’d expected.

A Greater Flame Lion.

Its mane was alive—no longer hair, but pure flame. Every breath it took sent heatwaves rolling across the clearing. Around it, at least a dozen fire lions paced in tight circles like royal guards.

Michael narrowed his eyes.

Normal bronze-level hunters weren’t meant to handle something like this. Perhaps a higher level hunter team.

Michael raised his spear.

His lips curled into something like a smile.

“Found you.”

With a flick of his wrist, he vanished from sight.

The pride didn’t even notice.

Not until he was already inside their ring, spear glowing with dark energy, slicing through flesh like silk.

He wasn’t hunting anymore.

He was purging.

Soon.

“After this task, I should only need to do a few similar ones to level up my hunter level again.”

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