Evolving My Undead Legion In A Game-Like World

Rui vanished.

One moment he was standing tall and composed; the next, there was only a blur.

Dust kicked up from where his foot had been.

In the blink of an eye, he was in front of Renn, his fist already halfway to the boy's chest.

Boom!

Renn managed to cross his arms just in time. The impact thundered against his guard, sending shockwaves down his bones.

He skidded backward, his boots carving twin lines in the stone platform.

"Oh-ho! The prince makes the first move! What speed!" the commentator shouted, barely keeping up. "But wait! Renn Noah blocked it! He blocked it!"

The crowd exploded with noise.

The nobles looked at each other. Many had expected Renn to be blown off stage in seconds.

Though they didn't recognise this 'prince', it was a title that only those of at least a duke lineage could have.

Such a figure could not be simple.

While Renn on the other hand...

Aside from looking quite handsome, je didn't stand out much at first glance.

He must be a commoner, they thought at first.

But there he stood, arms shaking but unbroken.

Rui tilted his head, surprise faint on his features.

"Impressive," he said coolly. "I didn't expect you to react."

He took a slow step forward, still relaxed. "Though, you do know that wasn't me going full power, right?"

Renn didn't answer.

His arms still ached from the punch. His ribs throbbed faintly. That hadn't been Rui's full strength? He believed it.

The blow had felt heavy—but lazy. Like someone swatting a fly they didn't consider worth effort.

And yet—

Just as Rui hadn't gone all out, neither had Renn.

He rolled his shoulders, adjusted his footing.

A subtle nod passed between them.

Then both vanished.

They reappeared a heartbeat later on opposite sides of the arena—then again, then again. They moved like shadows, their feet barely touching the ground.

The commentator squinted, trying to keep up.

"They're moving... faster than before! Is anyone else struggling to follow this? Because I know I am!" His voice, usually dramatic and exaggerated, had become sharper.

Big sounds flared as wood met knuckle. Again. Again.

Rui frowned.

He was stronger. There was no question. But every time his fist met Renn's blade, it was like striking against water and stone at the same time.

His strength dispersed.

It didn't make sense.

The sword was wooden—yet it didn't snap. Not even a splinter.

And that technique—the way Renn shifted his stance to redirect Rui's momentum. Every strike, every clash, felt like half of Rui's force vanished into thin air.

Renn, on the other hand, had no such confusion.

He felt every punch.

His arms were getting numb. The reverberations of each blocked strike rattled through his body. His legs were already tiring.

But it was fine.

Because he could still move.

He hadn't been broken.

Not yet.

And as long as he still stood—

Then he still had a chance.

Rui stepped back, breathing slow and even.

"You're not bad," he said at last. "But you're annoying."

He surged forward.

Renn pivoted.

The next exchange was cleaner, sharper. Rui's punches came like arrows. But Renn was no longer trying to match strength for strength.

He flowed.

Redirected.

His sword, though light, carried weight in how it moved. Each deflection wasn't just defense—it was control.

And on stage, Rui felt it too.

From the waiting room, Michael watched silently. He narrowed his eyes.

Qi.

A faint white glow coated Renn's sword now.

He'd seen it before.

"Advanced Mastery…" Michael muttered. "No… perfect stage mastery."

Only Grand Knight Verren had shown that before.

"Not bad," Michael whispered, watching the stage. "But that prince doesn't look like he's done yet."

Michael was right.

On the field, Rui's expression twisted. This was not fun. This was embarrassing.

He was a prince of the Empire. Even if he didn't carry his title on his face, the pride of it burned in his bones. The Lionheart Kingdom might be strong—but his Empire had two more forces like them under it. He had always been told: You are a genius. You are a ruler. Superior.

And now? Now he couldn't put down a commoner?

Rui's jaw clenched. His punch missed by a hair's breadth as Renn slid under and tapped his knee with the flat of his blade. A harmless hit—but a statement.

Rui felt insulted. Disgraced.

His patience snapped. He stopped holding back.

A wave of power erupted from his body. The platform cracked beneath his feet. He unleashed it all.

The full strength of a Grand Tier.

Gasps filled the stands. The commentator choked on his words.

"W-What's this?! This burst of raw pressure!"

Rui launched forward, his fist glowing faintly with compressed force. It screamed through the air, aimed straight at Renn's center.

Renn's pupils shrank. He raised his sword—and a white light flared. Qi surged.

The wooden blade shone like steel.

Boom!

The punch collided. Renn blocked. The sound tore through the arena like thunder. Dust swallowed the two figures.

When it cleared— Renn was still standing. Knees bent. Arms locked. Sword intact.

Rui stared. More than surprise, there was something darker in his eyes now.

Fury?

The white glow surrounding Renn's sword hadn't been a trick of the light.

Rui's eyes, trained from years of education within the Empire, recognized it instantly.

Qi.

His fist lowered slightly.

So that's what this is.

Even a strand of grass wielded by someone at that level could be lethal. It didn't matter that Renn's weapon was wood.

It had long been baptized in the aura of its user, infused over years of use. That made it sharper than steel.

No wonder it hadn't broken.

Even in the Empire, perfect stage masters were rare. Especially young ones. And now he was staring at one.

A boy younger than him. A nobody. A commoner.

Something hot boiled in Rui's chest.

Before, he had held back. Not out of mercy, but out of calculation. He didn't want to kill anyone yet.

Especially not when the Duke of Evermoon was watching with the current situation of things.

But now?

Now he wanted blood.

Not because of honor.

Because of pride.

Because this peasant dared to match him.

He activated it.

His bloodline.