Knowing the petition was over, Michael didn’t waste any more time and began making his way home.
At first, he considered taking a leisurely walk to enjoy the breeze, but the moment he noticed the way people were starting to recognize him, he changed his mind.
The floating illusion screens all around the capital hadn’t shut down yet. He did know what method was being used but his face was still being broadcast across many corners.
And now, strangers were beginning to turn. Point. Whisper.
"Troublesome," he muttered under his breath.
In the next instant, his figure blurred—vanishing from sight in a flash.
Gasps echoed around him as the crowd staggered in surprise.
"That was him!"
"It’s Mic Nor!"
People surged forward in the direction he had disappeared, some laughing, some wide-eyed, some shouting his name.
But Michael was already gone.
A beat later, he was standing in front of his apartment.
"To think I’d gain fame first in the Land of Origin rather than the real world," he muttered.
Then his expression shifted slightly.
"No... maybe it’s only in the Land of Origin that someone like me can bee famous. After all, it’s only recently that supernaturals have started being more public—and even now, people like me still fly under the radar."
So Michael thought—pletely forgetting that just a few weeks ago, after resolving the monster outbreak in his munity caused by demonic supernaturals, he had already started gaining attention online.
Especially because of his undead.
However, Michael couldn’t be blamed for not realizing this.
After all, most people only considered themselves famous once being seen in public became a hassle.
Back in Aurora, he hadn’t felt that way.
"Hmm. No one’s home."
He unlocked the front door and stepped inside, spreading his senses the moment he entered. Aside from himself, there wasn’t another living soul in the house.
Lia and Ace were gone.
He doubted they had gone to the dojo they often frequented—today felt like a public holiday thanks to the Duke’s tournament. The capital was practically at a standstill.
Still, Michael didn’t dwell on it.
After locking the door behind him, he climbed the stairs and headed straight to his room.
Once inside, he began removing his armor piece by piece, storing each one in his personal storage space. His spear was already there.
What made him chuckle to himself was how little he had actually used it during the petition.
Nothing—not even Uga—had forced him to fight seriously with a weapon.
Then again, Uga was a different story altogether. The youth had fought barehanded, relying solely on his monstrous body to even tank spells.
He was a plete outlier.
When Michael thought of Uga, part of him felt an odd sort of regret.
Regret that he hadn’t been able to use his talent on him.
Despite Uga’s ridiculous strength, Michael was nearly certain that at his core, he was still human—at least partially.
And that made Michael wonder just how terrifying Uga could bee if he evolved.
Michael would need to rely on Gale or Prince to win.
The two-against-one strategy wouldn’t have worked again.
In fact, it probably wouldn’t have worked at all if Uga had more training.
Too bad he was alive...
Too bad he wasn’t an enemy...
These were the thoughts that had crossed Michael’s mind immediately after defeating Uga. Thoughts he quickly shoved away.
He blamed his talent for such twisted impulses.
As he finished removing his armor, he lay on the bed, arms behind his head, thoughts still drifting back to the tournament.
"Putting Uga aside," he muttered, "if I ever run into someone else that unique again—and I have the right to do what I want with them—I’d rather they be alive than dead."
His eyes narrowed.
"The fact that my talent works on me means I should be able to use it on living targets too. I just haven’t figured out how... yet."
"Maybe advancing to Rank 2 will unlock more information. Perhaps something like what beast tamers use—soul contracts with living creatures."
"If I can mimic that... forget everything else. My sister... my aunt... they could bee strong."
But that was a matter for future Michael.
The current one? He simply lay back, summoned Spartan to guard his resting body, and with a long breath—
Returned his consciousness to his original body in Aurora.
The first thing Michael did upon returning to the real world was spread his senses.
As expected, the familiar tethers to a few of his undead responded immediately, but aside from that... the house was empty.
He didn’t frown. He didn’t even pause. He was used to this. Especially around this time of day.
Lily should still be at school, he thought casually, already moving toward the kitchen.
And Aunt...
He smiled faintly.
She wasn’t working as a chef anymore—not like back in Woodstone City. That had been a tiring job, one where she poured her soul into long hours and thankless customers just to put food on the table.
Now, she owned her own place.
Thanks to his means, Michael had built up a solid financial foundation. While he could’ve used that money for other things... he didn’t.
Instead, he rented a three-story building in one of the big districts of the city, and gave his aunt the reins.
A restaurant.
Her own.
She had cried the day he showed her the keys. She hadn’t even asked for it out loud, but he had seen the way her eyes lingered on shops they passed during their walks, heard the wistful tone in her voice when she talked about the dishes she would’ve made if she had a place of her own.
Now, she did.
The restaurant had only been open for a couple of weeks, but word had already started spreading.
And the best part? She was happy.
Michael walked past the couch and glanced at the framed photo on the side table. It was a recent one: Lily grinning awkwardly in her school uniform, his aunt standing proudly beside her in her chef’s jacket, and Michael—tall, slightly off-centered, holding a box of fresh vegetables like some overgrown delivery guy.
His smile lingered.
A lot had changed since they arrived in this new city.
He had done so much.
And there was still much to be done.
For his family.
And for himself.
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