Evolving My Undead Legion In A Game-Like World

Chapter 791: Arven

Caelum’s gaze hardened.

"Who are you?" he asked.

For a split second, Arven looked genuinely stunned.

Then he burst into laughter.

It was loud and unrestrained, echoing strangely through the surrounding area.

Arven bent slightly at the waist, one hand resting on his knee as he laughed, shoulders shaking.

"Ah... that’s on me," he said at last, straightening with a broad grin. "That’s entirely my fault."

He gave a small apologetic nod, the gesture casual but oddly sincere.

"My manners slipped. I should have introduced myself earlier."

Arven placed a hand lightly over his chest.

"Director Arven," he said. "Advanced Counselor of Veraunt’s Edge. One of the ten Awakener Academies in Aurora. Also the academy your student over there studies at."

The moment the words left his mouth, Caelum’s body tensed.

A man of his level, especially one who worked directly under the Federation, naturally knew of the Ten Awakener Academies. Even if the details were fragmented, even if he had never dealt with them directly, the names alone carried weight. They were pillars. Independent forces that existed alongside the Federation rather than completely beneath it.

Veraunt’s Edge was one of them.

And Arven...

Caelum’s eyes narrowed slightly.

This was the first time he had ever seen the man in person, but the name was no stranger to him. Far from it. Among high level circles in Aurora, Director Arven was spoken of rarely, and always with caution.

One of the individuals closest to the demigod rank.

Also, one of the few beings still alive from the era when mana first descended upon Aurora, when the apocalypse tore the world apart.

A survivor from the beginning.

That realization settled heavily in Caelum’s chest.

However, this was not what gave Caelum the biggest headache.

Everyone in Hell was suppressed, and as long as they were above a certain stage, they were brought down to that level. Though Arven was stronger than Caelum under normal circumstances, it remained uncertain who would actually end up with the last laugh under such conditions.

But even that was not the real problem.

What gave Caelum an almost splitting headache was Arven’s personality.

Arven was a madman.

Not in the sense of reckless bravado, but an actual madman.

Before the apocalypse, Arven had been confined to a mental institution and diagnosed with several disorders, including split personality among others.

Caelum did not know the full story, but it seemed the root of Arven’s instability was tied to his profession as a teacher at the time.

According to fragmented records and old reports, Arven had survived a fire incident where he was forced to watch his students, including his own daughter who had been one of them, burn to death.

What no one had expected was for a madman to survive for so long, let alone rise to become one of the most powerful individuals in Aurora three hundred years later.

Arven, for his part, seemed delighted by the act of introducing himself.

His smile softened into something almost playful as his gaze flicked briefly to the unconscious Michael floating nearby.

"Well now," he said lightly, "this is awkward, isn’t it?"

He looked back at Caelum, eyes bright with interest.

"I assume you can see why I’d be curious," Arven continued. "A student under academy protection. Unconscious. Being hurried out of Hell by a Federation powerhouse."

His tone remained friendly, but the air around him felt subtly different now. Like a stage had been set.

"So," Arven said, spreading his hands slightly, "how about we talk this through?"

Caelum did not answer immediately.

His gaze remained fixed on Arven, mind moving quickly. Excuses were easy to give. Convincing this man was another matter entirely.

"Michael is required to give an account of the Hell incident," Caelum said at last, his voice even. "There are matters related to the Demon Lord’s fall, and several other details that fall under Federation jurisdiction. Some of them are not things I am permitted to disclose to external organizations."

He paused briefly, then added, "Time is sensitive. That is why I am moving quickly."

Arven listened without interrupting, his smile never quite fading. When Caelum finished, Arven nodded slowly, as if genuinely considering the explanation.

"I see," he said. "A debriefing."

His eyes drifted once more to Michael’s unconscious form, hovering quietly between them.

"Then I have a simple question," Arven continued, tilting his head. "Why is he unconscious?"

Caelum’s expression did not change.

"He exhausted himself," Caelum replied calmly. "I made the decision to stabilize him and prevent further damage after his treatment."

Arven hummed softly.

"Interesting," he said. "Very considerate of you."

"Authority is a flexible thing," Arven continued mildly. "Whatever information the Federation seeks can be discussed through proper channels. Veraunt’s Edge is not ignorant of what transpired in Hell, and Michael remains, first and foremost, a student under academy jurisdiction."

Caelum’s jaw tightened.

"He cannot remain with the academy right now," Caelum said. "There are discussions that require privacy. Decisions that will affect more than one faction. This is not something I am at liberty to share."

Arven’s smile did not fade, but something behind his eyes sharpened.

"And yet," he said, "you are attempting to remove him without consultation. No notice. That does not really put me at ease."

He took another step closer, stopping just outside the subtle pressure field Caelum had unconsciously spread around Michael. His gaze sharpened, though his smile remained relaxed.

Caelum’s tone cooled.

"You are overstepping."

Arven chuckled.

"Perhaps." He shrugged. "But that is part of my job."

His gaze flicked back to Michael, lingering for a moment longer than before.

"Michael is under academy protection," Arven said, his voice still mild. "That protection does not vanish simply because the Federation wishes to ask questions. If he is to be questioned, it will be done with oversight."

Caelum felt pressure build subtly around them.

"Are you trying to take him from me?" he asked.

Arven shook his head.

"No," he said.

He smiled again, but this time there was something sharper beneath it.

"I am simply asking you to wake him."

*

A/N; has been edited.