Evolving My Undead Legion In A Game-Like World

Chapter 419: Chapter 419 A Fortune From Helping

The evening unfolded just as Michael had suspected.

Once the spell was broken, people began to awaken.

The stronger ones regained consciousness first, while the weaker took longer.

Michael also managed to meet some of the people he’d spoken with in the illusion, though one of them was in a rather troublesome situation.

It was the count who had shared the same worries with Michael about why their mental defense tools hadn’t worked.

Apparently, he had “died” to a trap inside the illusion. But whether it was due to a flaw in the spell or simply how it was designed, his mental defense tool only activated when he was attacked in reality.

So yes, the tools had been functioning—but the spell was simply too unique.

When Michael learned this, he was once again grateful he’d chosen to take that hit to his stomach.

If he hadn’t, he’d be like the count—unconscious and needing to pay exorbitant fees for a rare high-tier healer.

At least the count had family and connections.

Michael only had strength, and whatever connections that strength happened to bring—and even those were rather shaky.

And even if they hadn’t been, the idea of entrusting his life to another person—even in a body that wasn’t his original one—was profoundly unsettling.

The basement of the auction house was silent.

Michael stood with the other five nobles in a loose semicircle around the shattered remains of the ritual circle.

The manager of the auction—an older man whose face had the pinched look of someone who would rather be anywhere else—hovered a few steps back, wringing his hands.

Duke Evermoon was there, as composed as ever, the lacquered box now tucked under one arm.

Next to the Duke stood the second prince—middle-aged in appearance, his bearing effortlessly regal.

“As I said,” Michael repeated evenly, his gaze on the broken runes, “I reached this place after I freed myself from the illusion. By that point, the perpetrators were already gone. The array was still active, but there was no sign of anyone nearby.”

One of the nobles—a tall, narrow-faced man in black velvet—shifted restlessly. “And you destroyed it yourself?”

“I did. There was no point in leaving it intact.”

The second prince’s eyes lifted to study him, their dark depths unreadable. “You’re certain it was safe to do so?”

“If I hadn’t,” Michael said quietly, “everyone who hadn’t yet awakened would have remained trapped. Or died, eventually.”

A subtle hush followed that.

Duke Evermoon spoke into it, his tone measured. “Sir Mic did what most of us could not. Sometimes, risk are necessary. Fortunately it turned out well.”

Michael glanced at him sidelong.

The auction manager finally found his voice, clearing his throat as he looked around at the ruined circle. “Then…then it is confirmed the attackers left no trace?”

“No,” Michael said, and let a faint edge of finality into his tone. “Nothing.”

He paused, surveying the broken lines carved into the floor—lines that only a few minutes ago had almost killed them.

The silence stretched a few moments longer, heavy with the chill of the basement’s damp air.

Then the second prince turned. His gaze settled on the auction manager.

“You there,” the prince said, voice quiet but edged like a blade. “Explain how this could happen in your establishment.”

The manager blanched. He bowed hastily, palms pressed together. “Your Highness, I—I assure you, the spell was…beyond anything we anticipated—”

“Beyond what you anticipated?” The prince’s brows lifted just enough to look amused. “You host the wealth of half a slightly weak kingdom beneath this roof, and you didn’t anticipate someone might attempt to seize it?”

The manager swallowed, sweat standing out along his hairline. “Your Highness, if you would permit me time to investigate further—”

“Time?” the prince repeated mildly. “Time, when a dozen nobles nearly died?”

The manager’s face had gone a sickly grey. Michael kept his expression impassive. He had no intention of rescuing the man.

He was a victim after all.

Duke Evermoon cleared his throat softly, but the second prince ignored him, stepping forward with an air of casual menace.

“Perhaps,” the prince continued, “a generous contribution to the royal relief coffers would help smooth this…unpleasantness.”

That, more than the words, made it plain to everyone present what this was.

It wasn’t an inquiry anymore. It was leverage.

The auction manager looked like a man trying not to faint. “Of—of course, Your Highness. Whatever sum you feel appropriate—”

“I will have my retainy draw up the details.” The prince inclined his head just enough to be polite, though there was no warmth in his smile.

One of the nobles coughed discreetly into his glove, failing to hide a smirk. Another looked away, lips pressed tight to hold back laughter.

Even Duke Evermoon looked faintly exasperated, though he made no comment.

Michael only watched the exchange in silence, thinking that for all the chaos tonight, some things never changed.

Power was power. And someone would always find a way to profit from it.

He liked this though.

Michael only hoped that what he’d receive was worth tonight situation.

A few minutes later.

Michael looked at the briefcase handed to him by the Manager.

Inside the case, nestled in orderly rows, were rectangular slips of embossed parchment.

The manager’s voice came out thin and a little shaky. “Five thousand golden papers, Sir Mic. As a token of gratitude for…for your decisive intervention.”

Michael’s expression remained unchanged, but inwardly, he felt something jolt to a halt.

Five thousand?

One golden paper was worth a thousand gold coins.

That meant…

Five million.

For the first time in a long while, he felt a genuine flicker of surprise. He managed—barely—to keep it from showing on his face.

This was a fortune.

In that quiet moment, he couldn’t help the small, dry thought that crawled into his mind.

If I’d had this an hour ago, that Great-Tier scroll would have been mine.

A ripple of understanding passed through the room. Michael knew exactly why the manager’s hands were trembling, why his voice wavered as he asked, “Is there…anything else you require, Sir Mic? Any further compensation, or perhaps an item you had your eye on? It would be no trouble.”

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