Evolving My Undead Legion In A Game-Like World

Chapter 526: Two Firsts

The slowed replay showed Michael spinning aside, mist parting around him as wind blades shredded the rock.

Then, in seamless rhythm, he answered with layered spells—Magic Arrow, Acid Shot, Bone Spear—each one forcing the mage further off balance.

Professor Veylin’s fingers tapped against his knee, his usually calm expression tight with focus.

By now, clashes were breaking out across the trial grounds.

Every state’s channel had their own “star” to highlight.

In one place, it was a prodigy swordsman carving down a Hunted with graceful violence. In another place, a healer who had miraculously turned a near-loss into a comeback.

But in Dawn State, the camera never left Michael.

From the very moment he appeared, he had captured their focus. And after the three-on-one? The producers didn’t even consider switching away. The broadcast fed entirely on him, replay after replay, panel after panel.

Professor Veylin, however, had grown more cautious. Inwardly, he warned himself not to speak with certainty again—lest he be humiliated a second time.

He adjusted his glasses, the light glinting against his lenses as he observed the slowed replay. His thoughts were his own this time.

A necromancer who hasn’t shown even a hint of necromancy…

As a cultivator, he knew enough not to claim mastery over awakeners. Their paths diverged far too much. He understood the basics, the principles, the logic—but not the intimate truths of their classes. Still, even with common sense alone, something about Michael grated against expectations.

Awakeners, for all their flexibility, always leaned hardest into their class. Knights built their strength around martial techniques and physique. Mages bent their paths into spellcraft. Tamers grew with their beasts.

And necromancers? Their strength lay in the dead.

Yet here was a boy, a necromancer, fighting entirely without them. Not a skeleton. Not a ghoul. Not even a flicker of a class-bound summon. He wielded spear and spell with brutal elegance, never once tapping into what was supposed to be his core.

Darius broke the silence with his usual excitement. “Professor, you must admit—it’s impressive. If we didn’t know his class, you’d think he was a battle-mage or something. Hmm, I wonder if there’s a battle mage class.”

Professor Veylin did not reply immediately. He only tapped his finger once against the armrest of his chair.

Finally, he spoke, his tone subdued, almost careful. “Yes. Impressive.”

The replay ended, but before the studio could settle back into discussion, Selene’s eyes flicked to the console, her voice rising with a spark of surprise.

“Wait—hold on. Professor, we’re getting a feed update. Another participant is closing in on Michael.”

The camera shifted, the misty terrain dissolving into a wider view. Two figures appeared on separate ridgelines, their paths converging through the fog.

The assistant producer’s voice echoed in their ears. “Confirmed—Michael Norman and… Brian…..”

Darius straightened in his seat, a grin spreading across his face. “Brian? The same Brian who eliminated his opponent right at the start?”

Selene nodded, her lips curving faintly. “Yes. Both of them struck down their opponents in the opening minutes… almost at the same time.”

The studio atmosphere sharpened instantly, the tension palpable.

“It looks like fate is nudging them together,” Darius murmured.

Professor Veylin’s expression stayed calm, but his eyes betrayed a flicker of intrigue as he leaned forward. “Interesting. Very interesting. The two earliest eliminators… crossing paths so soon.”

The live feed zoomed closer, showing Michael moving with his steady, deliberate stride. Across the mist, Brian’s figure emerged—a sword in hand, his steps confident, eyes sharp as though he already sensed another predator.

The scene carried an uncanny symmetry.

Selene’s tone carried a tremor of excitement. “This… this looks like a rival’s encounter.”

Darius chuckled.

“Professor… what happens here? Michael is a Freeman. Brian is a Hunted. But Michael’s designation only allows him to eliminate Hunters, not the Hunted. What if he strikes Brian down?”

Darius’s grin faltered as the question hung in the air. “And—on the other hand—what if Brian, as a Hunted, eliminates Michael?”

The uncertainty rippled across the broadcast.

Professor Veylin adjusted his glasses, his expression unreadable. “It could mean anything. Disqualification. Instant elimination. In any case, we’ll know soon, right?”

*

Brian’s jaw clenched as he trudged through the fog, the sword tight in his grip.

He cursed under his breath.

“Hunted, huh… what rotten luck.”

Of all the roles the system could’ve given him, it had thrown him the one that painted a target on his back.

Every minute his map flared, golden lines streaking across the mist, marking his hunters. He was forced move.

But Brian wasn’t weak. Far from it. His lips curled in a thin smirk, though his eyes stayed sharp.

If it had been anyone else, maybe he’d be worried. But he had confidence in his strength.

He remembered the choice the system had pressed on him at awakening. Two classes shimmered before him.

[Knight]

[Fire Mage]

The decision had been cruel—forcing him to abandon one path forever. In the end, Brian had chosen the Knight. The sword gave him better security.

However, just because he had chosen Knight didn’t mean he had forgotten fire.

Brian’s boots ground against stone as he slowed, his senses flaring.

Someone was close.

The fog shifted, revealing a figure descending from the cliffs opposite him. A tall youth, spear in hand, calm stride carrying him forward like he owned the ground beneath his feet.

Michael Norman.

*

Michael’s steps slowed as the mist peeled back, revealing a lone figure across the jagged ridge. His fingers tightened instinctively around the spear.

Brian.

Recognition hit instantly.

At the same time, Brian’s pace faltered, his eyes narrowing as he too recognized the figure emerging from the gray.

Michael Norman.

For a breath, neither moved.

Michael’s chest rose with a controlled inhale, his gaze locking with Brian’s through the shifting fog. What are the odds?

Brian’s lips pressed thin, irritation flickering beneath his confidence.

*****

A/N: Sorry for the previous mishaps. From now on, updates will be five hours after reset.

I’m making mistakes with rushing.