Mage Lian remained still, breathing steadily as the weight of everything washed over him.
And then, inevitably, his thoughts drifted back to Michael.
The boy, aside from helping him, also had no idea of what he’d done.
Winning the Duke’s competition had been more than what it was on the surface. It had been a critical mont in the political chessboard of the continent...
Mage Lian’s gaze dimd, his fingers drumming slowly against his thigh.
A single misstep. That was all it would’ve taken.
Had Michael lost... had Prince Rui won... the Empire would have used it as a foothold.
By marrying the Duke’s daughter, the Prince wouldn’t just have claid a noble title; he would have gained a binding tie to the Lionheart Kingdom’s noble line. With that, and the Empire’s subtle pressure, they could have lobbied for subtle integration. Their claim would have been "legitimate."
After all, it was a recognized competition. An open invitation. A fair event—on paper.
And that was the loophole.
Mage Lian’s eyes narrowed.
All of this scheming had started because of a single thing—an ancient ruin. A legendary site uncovered by the old king One that could change the fate of a nation.
Coincidentally—or not—the revelation of the discovery of that ruin matched Duke Evermoon competition.
Fortunately, by winning the competition, by standing tall in the arena, Michael had severed the Empire’s creeping hand at its wrist.
Mage Lian chuckled darkly to himself, the sound low and rough.
"The boy really has no idea," he murmured. "He once again helped the Kingdom and doesn’t even know it."
Mage Lian slowly pushed himself to his feet, still adjusting to the renewed strength coursing through his limbs. The soft hum of the mana array beneath his feet faded as he deactivated the formations and moved toward the shelves lining the room.
There was much to do. Duties never paused—even after near-death.
As he began returning to his responsibilities, a soft mutter escaped his lips, almost unconsciously, "It seems like the potion didn’t just stabilize ... it increased my lifespan."
There was no small amount of satisfaction in his voice.
For a mage at his stage, ti was the greatest currency—and the rarest.
More ti ant more opportunities to refine his foundation, deepen his comprehension, and—perhaps, just perhaps—touch the peak of the Grand Tier.
He wasn’t there yet, but the Titan Potion had pushed him further than decades of effort ever had.
Now, he stood infinitely close to the late stages. Given a dozen years of uninterrupted cultivation, he estimated he might begin brushing against the threshold of the peak.
For an old man like him, that ant everything.
He allowed himself a smile.
"No wonder the Princess is fond of him..."
It wasn’t just power. It wasn’t just talent. Michael was sothing else—sothing that didn’t co around often. Even Mage Lian, hardened by experience spanning centuries, found himself... appreciative.
Yes. Even he had grown sowhat fond of the boy.
There was sothing magnetic about him. Dangerous, yes—but undeniably compelling.
And just like the Princess, he too had begun to wonder about the boy’s origins.
Where did soone like that co from?
What kind of background could produce a being like Michael?
The Princess might know. She certainly acted like she had so inkling.
Unfortunately, he couldn’t directly question her.
Michael was in a good mood as he walked through the clean, stone-paved streets of the inner city.
The sky above was a rich blue, dotted with drifting clouds, and the late afternoon sun cast warm hues over the capital.
Every step he took felt lighter than the last. His recent eting with Mage Lian had gone better than expected.
Much better.
The conversation had left a surprising weight off his shoulders. He hadn’t exactly forgotten about the matter of exchanging corpses for rare resources, but he also hadn’t placed much importance on it.
With everything else going on, it had simply faded to the back of his mind. A useful opportunity, sure—but not one he’d thought would bear fruit so soon.
Now, with the Princess’s approval and Mage Lian’s support, it was all but confird.
Michael exhaled slowly, letting the breeze wash over him. The Land of Origin had always felt surreal to him—too real for a ga, too fantastical for the real world. But monts like these reminded him that it wasn’t just a fantasy.
It was his reality.
The materials for his Advancent were vital—not exactly for himself, but for his undead. The result of their evolution and Advancent to Rank 2 depended on it.
Since his undead were the very foundation of his power, anything that concerned them naturally concerned him.
Mutated Undeads were significantly stronger than those who evolved through normal ans.
Despite his growing wealth in both the Land of Origin and Aurora, Michael couldn’t afford to provide rare materials for all 105 of his undead.
What he could do, however, was prioritize.
And for now, that ant focusing on the ones he considered more important—his nad undead.
Lily, Beginning, Prince, Lucky, Fade, Ghost, Spartan, blue, purple, and Gale.
The first two—Lily and Beginning—had been the reason he discovered that his talent could channel external materials into the evolution process.
Still, that thod ca with a caveat: the materials had to be special. Rare. Extraordinary.
At least... that was what he assud for now. Michael wasn’t entirely certain if the requirent was ironclad. It was sothing he intended to research more about it when he had the opportunity.
At present, though, his priority was clear: he needed to gather extraordinary materials for eight of his undead.
Two of them—Prince and Gale—were already Rank 2.
That left Lily, Beginning, Lucky, Fade, Ghost, blue, purple, and Spartan.
Once these eight advanced, then—and only then—would he start considering the next stage for Prince and Gale.
Among the six, however, it was Lucky’s advancent that excited Michael the most.
If everything went according to plan...
He might soon have his first Rank 3 undead.
A terrifyingly powerful one at that—assuming he could acquire the right materials.
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