Evolving My Undead Legion In A Game-Like World

Chapter 754: An Ordinary Genius

Outwardly, her condition looked less severe than the Khar’veth’s. She still had her limbs. She still had her core intact. She still hovered without difficulty, because Rank Three did not need wings to fly.

But that was a surface reading.

What she did not say, and what she did not intend to say, was that losing her wings had injured more than flesh.

It had injured her vitality.

Not in a way that would immediately kill her, but vitality was not just lifespan. This injury had also damaged her potential to some extent.

And even the process of regaining her wings would consume more vitality.

Whether she used resources or not, some portion of that vitality would be spent.

The only difference was that using resources would make the cost smaller, controlled, and less significant to worry about.

She did not need the elf to know that.

She did not need the Khar’veth to know it either.

The elf representative studied the two, then spoke in the same flat, indifferent tone she used for everything.

"If you are willing to pay with precious resources," she said, "my race can treat it."

The Khar’veth leader blinked. "Your race?"

The Virellion’s eyes narrowed slightly in surprise.

In the vast universe, elves were not only known for their beauty, their affinity to nature, or the pride that made them carry themselves as if they stood on the same pedestal as dragons and phoenixes.

Their healing arts were also among the best.

Even without treatment having begun, both races knew that what the elven race could provide was far superior to what their own races could offer.

Healing was also how a race as proud as the elves avoided isolation and maintained countless connections.

What shocked the two was not the offer itself, but the fact that an elf had suggested it at all. Based on her tone, it even sounded like they would be receiving a favorable deal.

One should not judge this by the way the elf was currently speaking to them. After spending years together on the third floor, even without close interaction, proximity alone had forced familiarity.

The fact that she still did not truly place them in her eyes had not changed.

The Khar’veth leader swallowed. "You can do that?"

The elf did not smile. "If you can pay."

The Khar’veth leader and the Virellion exchanged a glance.

What had changed?

Was it surviving two Rank Four existences?

Or had the elf simply decided that, for reasons they could not grasp, today they were worth addressing as equals?

"Do not think too deeply about it," the elf representative said.

She continued, voice steady. "You assisted on the fifteenth floor. And besides," the elf added, cutting off any sense of misplaced gratitude before it could form, "you will pay. This is not kindness."

"It is just business."

The Virellion and the Khar’veth said nothing, though their expressions were complicated.

Even with how she framed it, an elf remembering a favor was rare.

An elf admitting it openly was rarer still.

It was not uncommon for others to die for elves and consider it an honor. That mindset was especially common among elven royalty.

As their conversation reached a natural pause, all three of them turned their attention downward.

To the youth.

He lay unconscious amid shattered earth, surrounded by undead standing guard like silent sentinels. The battlefield around him was ruined beyond recognition, but none of that drew their eyes as much as the still figure at the center of it all.

The Khar’veth leader exhaled slowly. "I hope the kid is doing well."

The Virellion shook her head faintly. "I doubt it."

Both the Khar’veth and the elf glanced at her.

"I was not with him the entire time," the Virellion continued calmly, "but I am not blind. The death of his undead affects him."

She paused, eyes narrowing slightly as memories of the battle surfaced.

"That is common among necromancers who revive their undead using fragments of their own soul," she said. "Each loss tears something away."

The Khar’veth leader frowned. "He lost a lot."

"Too many," the Virellion replied. "And not weak ones."

Even to her trained senses, the quality of those undead had been abnormal. Losing even one would have been a blow. Losing many in such a short period of time was devastating.

"His fainting was inevitable," she concluded. "Whether his body collapsed or his mind did, one of them had to give."

The female elf said nothing.

Her gaze remained fixed on the youth, unreadable.

For a brief moment, something close to thought flickered behind her indifferent eyes.

Then it vanished.

"He is alive," she said at last. "That is enough."

For now.

The elf’s gaze did not leave the youth as she spoke again.

"If I could carry him to my realm fast enough," she said calmly, "there is a chance some of the damage could be resolved."

The Khar’veth leader’s remaining eye widened slightly.

"A chance?" he repeated.

"A small one," the elf replied without hesitation. "Soul damage heals best when addressed immediately, before it settles into the foundation. Time matters."

Her eyes shifted briefly to the undead surrounding Michael.

"But that is not possible."

The undead stood in a loose circle around the unconscious youth.

Step closer and die.

None of the three leaders said it out loud, but they all understood it instantly.

Approaching the youth meant certain death.

Even wounded and diminished, those undead were still monsters. And they were loyal.

Fanatically so.

The Khar’veth leader let out a slow breath. "Then this will weaken him?"

"Yes," the elf answered.

There was no pause. No softening of tone.

"Yes," she repeated. "It will affect his potential."

The Virellion’s fingers curled slightly at her side.

The Khar’veth leader frowned deeply. "By how much?"

The elf considered it for a heartbeat. "Enough that he may fall."

"Fall?" the Khar’veth pressed.

"From a holy child," the elf said, voice flat, "to an ordinary genius."

Silence followed.

An ordinary genius.