SSS Talent: My Undead Evolve Without Limits

Malrik ignored Lilith, staring at the boiling, freezing disaster unfolding throughout the room, his eye twitching.

Is there not a single normal person in this entire world?

"Enough!" Malrik roared, stepping right between the heat and the frost. "What the hell do you think you’re doing?!"

Both souls froze in place.

The scorching heat and biting cold snapped off instantly, leaving only a damp, smoking mess across the ruined floorboards.

Winter dropped onto one knee, lowering his majestic, white-maned head in total submission.

Beside him, Lady Mushroom bowed her staff, her giant hat tipping forward until the top of it nearly touched the floor.

Yet even on their knees, the room remained thick with silent pettiness.

"Do you think this is some kind of contest to see who has the stronger aura?!" Malrik barked, wiping a warm drop of poisonous condensation from his cheek. "You’re going to bring the whole castle down before the Morveth even do!"

From beneath her oversized mushroom cap, Lady Mushroom slowly turned her neon-green eyes toward Winter. Her glare was sharp and accusing, as if blaming him for the entire mess.

Winter met her gaze without a word. His pale green eyes narrowed, his expression carrying the same unmistakable accusation.

For a few seconds, neither of them moved. They simply stared at each other, each silently blaming the other for what had happened.

Neither was willing to look away first.

Malrik pinched the bridge of his nose, looking at the two kneeling idiots continuing their silent war.

"Back into the soul space, both of you," Malrik said, waving his hand.

Two green circles opened beneath them. Winter and Lady Mushroom dissolved into specks of light, sinking back into his soul space to conserve their energy and spare the room any further damage.

A system notification flashed before his eyes.

[ Lady Mushroom has gained the skill "Spiteful Spores". ]

Malrik paused, staring at the prompt floating in his vision.

Spiteful? What kind of name is that for a skill?

Curious, he opened the full skill details.

[ Skill: Spiteful Spores ]

Description: The user summons multiple small mushroom creatures that relentlessly attack nearby targets. When a summoned creature is about to die, it violently explodes, releasing a burst of venomous spores and scorching heat that damages nearby enemies.

A dry chuckle escaped Malrik’s lips as he scanned the description.

It’s similar to the Spider Queen’s Plague Bloom, but this is far more ridiculous.

Plague Bloom relies on enemies entering its range. This skill doesn’t wait for that. It literally summons tiny mushroom-shaped bombs and sends them straight at the enemy.

They’re essentially mobile bombs.

They rush the enemy, and when they’re about to be destroyed, they detonate, spreading both venom and heat.

Now I see why they’re called Spiteful.

He closed the system screen and turned his gaze toward the far corner of the room.

The third green cocoon, containing Biggie, sat near the stone wall. A dense, steady pulse of green light hummed across its smooth shell. Not a single crack marred its surface.

Malrik walked over and pressed his palm against the warm structure.

Biggie’s foundation is far more advanced than the other two

It makes sense that his transformation is taking longer.

Before he could pull his hand back, a heavy knock sounded against the oak door.

"Young Master," Eliza’s voice called from the corridor. "Dinner is served in private dining hall. Everyone is waiting."

Malrik stepped away from the cocoon and glanced at Lilith.

She pushed herself off the couch with a lazy stretch, her purple eyes flickering with mild amusement.

"Let’s go," Malrik said.

He walked to the door and pulled it open. Eliza stood respectfully beside the wall, her expression sharp and alert.

Malrik paused in the doorway, his eyes narrowing slightly as he met her gaze.

"Eliza. Stay here and guard this room," he said, his voice quiet and firm. "Nobody goes inside while I’m gone. Especially not our guests from the Temple."

Eliza bowed her head without a second thought, her hand moving casually to rest on the hilt of her sword.

"As you command, Young Master."

***

The private dining hall was warm, filled with the rich smell of roasted meat and northern wine. Servants moved quietly around the long mahogany table, setting down heavy platters of food.

Malrik took his seat at the head of the table. Lilith sat to his right, resting her cheek on her hand as she lazily swirled a glass of wine. Kael sat to his left, his shoulders finally dropping as he let out a quiet breath of relief.

Nearby, Ronan and his squad were gathered around the table, laughing and enjoying themselves as they shared fresh bread and chatted about yesterday’s chaotic fight.

Normally, sitting at the same table as the son of a Supreme Duke would have kept commoners or even minor nobles stiff and cautious.

But after traveling together, fighting side by side, and sharing life-and-death battles, that distant sense of authority had faded. They could now laugh and talk around him with far more freedom.

Only Seren sat in total silence. She pushed a piece of meat around with her fork, staring down at her plate with a tight frown.

Ronan nudged her with his elbow, grinning. "Are you still brooding over that Morveth corpse?"

Seren didn’t answer. She turned her head away, giving him a cold side-profile and ignoring him completely.

Malrik set his glass down on the table. "Don’t worry, Seren. I know you wanted the Poison Law Seed, but those materials are needed for something else. I’ll make it up to you with something better. I promise."

Seren’s brow twitched. She shot him a quick glance, her tight frown softening for a split second.

Inside, a surge of relief flared up—a promise from the Seventh Banner Bearer was no small thing.

She pulled her shoulders back and adjusted her sleeve, trying hard to look unbothered.

"Hmph," she muttered, looking back at her plate. "As if I cared about a little compensation."

Ronan snorted into his drinking cup, and even Kael managed a faint smile.

The easy warmth in the hall didn’t last long.

The heavy doors at the far end of the hall swung open, and the atmosphere died on the spot.

The laughter suddenly stopped. A servant froze mid-pour, while Ronan’s fork hung above his plate, the smile fading from his face.

Beside Malrik, Kael drained of color, his hands clutching the edge of the table so hard his knuckles turned stark white.

Down the table, the soldiers from Ronan’s squad immediately lowered their eyes, staring down at their food and keeping completely still.

A young woman stepped into the hall.

She had long scarlet hair that flowed smoothly over her back, pale skin, and striking golden eyes that casually scanned the silent room. She wore a suit of light gold armor over a dark tunic, polished to a shine, her subtle smile carrying a mix of playfulness and absolute confidence.

It was Shaye.

Behind her walked two knights in pristine white armor trimmed with gold detail. One of them was Jace, the Ascendant who had previously stood against Lilith’s aura.

He didn’t utter a word. His long, deep blue hair fell around a cold, handsome face, his eyes staring straight ahead. He didn’t spare a single glance toward the servants or the soldiers shrinking away from his path, radiating the heavy, quiet pressure of a knight who didn’t need to throw his weight around to be feared.

There were a couple dozen people inside the room, gathered around the long table. Ronan, his squad, and several servants were among them.

Shaye did not pay much attention to the others, though. Instead, her gaze settled on two individuals.

Malrik Vesperion, the Seventh Son of Duke Vesperion, and Lilith, the mysterious Ascendant who had seemingly appeared out of nowhere. She had never heard of before.

Shaye walked down the length of the hall with light, unhurried steps. She didn’t ask for permission, nor did she wait for anyone to offer her a seat.

At the far end of the long table, she reached out, grabbed the chair directly opposite Malrik, and dragged it back across the stone floor.

The harsh, dry scraping sound echoed clearly through the dead silence of the hall.

She sat down smoothly, dragging the chair forward slightly, and leisurely crossed one leg over the other.

She was on House Vesperion’s territory and heavily outnumbered, with intense gazes boring into her like drills. And yet, it seemed as if the people of Blackthorn were the nervous ones — Shaye remained perfectly at ease.

Behind her chair, Jace and the second knight came to a sudden halt, standing rigid as statues.

Shaye rested her hands in her lap, her golden eyes fixed on Malrik at the other end of the table. Her smile widened just enough to reveal her faint dimples.

"Ladies and gentlemen. It is good to see you all," Shaye said softly, her golden eyes glinting beneath the crystal lights. "Oh, please... don’t let me interrupt your dinner."