Looking at the empty streets, Michael sighed.
With his senses, he could still detect some life signatures scattered around, but even compared to the days immediately following the chaos, their number had dwindled drastically.
Michael figured that, like him and his family, other capable families had also chosen to relocate.
“According to Teacher Brian, Woodstone City and the other cities affected by the recent chaos have seen more than half their population relocate.”
He paused, eyes lifting to the empty night sky.
“But he said the other futures are trying harder to retain their people compared to Woodstone… because…”
Michael trailed off, gaze fixed on the sky.
If he hadn’t been told, he wouldn’t have been able to detect the faint cracks still lingering above the city—hidden rifts invisible even to his heightened High Human senses.
“With my current mana, I should have no issue casting Undead Summoning several times now. With the increased affinity… who knows? There might be surprises.”
Though the reality of the city’s situation gave him pause, Michael’s mind quickly shifted to what mattered most: himself—and his undead.
They were, after all, the core of his strength.
“First off… evolving myself again is off the table.”
He wouldn’t deny it.
He loved the feeling of personal evolution—craved it, even—but unfortunately, he couldn’t just use his talent to grow stronger again.
At least not yet.
His time with Brian had made one thing clear: as long as someone was strong enough and had the right experience, figuring out your race didn’t matter all that much.
Of course, that might also be because he lacked the right methods.
The High Human race was something even an expert like Brian—who didn’t seem to care about much—held in high regard.
Even if Michael was slow, he understood that his current identity was something special—especially in the eyes of the Federation, if the higher-ups ever found out.
This much, at least, he had gathered from Brian.
But what if he were to evolve into an even stronger race?
That could bring a whole new set of problems.
Michael didn’t know how rare the treasures that could change one’s race were, but he figured they had to be incredibly scarce.
If they weren’t, someone as powerful as Brian wouldn’t have spoken with such envy.
He might be inexperienced with the ways of the world, but even Michael knew: a man without strength, holding a treasure, was asking for disaster.
And if it came to light that his transformation was due to his talent… things could get even worse.
What if he became some kind of breeding tool for a high-ranked race?
He didn’t know if that was even possible—but the thought alone chilled him.
And if there were people within the Federation capable of such thoughts, they wouldn’t care whether his talent worked on others or not.
Ever since he’d discovered the true nature of his ability, Michael had promised himself never to reveal it lightly.
After testing it on himself and talking it over with Brian, he couldn’t even imagine going public with it.
Still, just because he didn’t plan to evolve himself anytime soon didn’t mean he couldn’t evolve his undead.
Especially Spartan.
As a fellow human—albeit a dead one—Spartan could serve as a test subject.
Michael could use him to explore what lay beyond the human race and get a better understanding of higher-ranked races.
At the very least, it would give him valuable knowledge about what to expect.
“Besides putting all my summons in the Netherworld, I should focus on using up all my contract slots,” he muttered.
This was another key issue, as the number of contracted undead determined how many evolution points he gained each day—something crucial for his growth.
Even if he grew stronger personally, unless he reached a truly overwhelming level, Michael knew it still wouldn’t surpass the advantage granted by his class.
And unless something unexpected came up, he should be able to raise the race rank of all his undead to at least Rare.
“I should be meet up with my family now.”
Yes, despite the hour and the silent gloom draped over the city, Michael had no intention of staying put. He had plans—he still wanted to meet up with his family.
But Michael had never intended to use conventional means anyway.
He pulled out his phone, the screen glowing softly in the darkness. A map appeared, marking his current location.
“Still pretty far,” he muttered. “But as long as I’ve got direction, I don’t need a road.”
With a thought, he brought out his undead griffin from his strong space.
Michael climbed onto the griffin’s back, the motions practiced and smooth. The creature adjusted to his weight instantly, crouching as it prepared to launch.
He cast one last glance at the deserted street. The buildings loomed like silent watchers in the dark, their windows lifeless.
“Let’s go,” he whispered.
With a powerful leap, the griffin launched into the sky. The wind howled past him, cold and sharp, but he barely noticed. His eyes remained fixed ahead, locked on the glowing path marked on his phone’s screen.
As he soared through the sky, Michael happened to pass by the school he had studied at, and a flurry of thoughts flashed through his mind.
This was where everything had started to change for him.
If his memory served him right, it had been around six weeks ago—just over a month.
And now… he had already been an Awakener for two full weeks.
A trace of emotion flickered in his eyes.
“I should check out the high school in the new city. Still need their help with my college—no, academy application.”
The sight stirred memories of his classmates, and his lips twitched slightly.
After a brief pause, he finally fought off the laziness and decided to message someone.
He opened his messages and sent a text to Mia, conveniently ignoring her previous unanswered ones.
Hey. I’m heading to another city. Hope you’re safe.
Just as he was about to hit send, he paused, then added:
Sorry for the late reply. Things came up.
He pressed send.
With that done, Michael turned his attention forward once more and continued his journey home.